


Little by Little

by nonsensedarling



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Exploring Secondary Gender Norms, Exploring Sexuality, Fluff, Gender Identity, M/M, Metaphors, Mpreg, Mutual Pining, Nesting, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Harry, Omega Louis Tomlinson, Pregnancy, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, game nights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:41:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 65,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28533090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonsensedarling/pseuds/nonsensedarling
Summary: Harry Styles is an omega who works at the London Planetarium, has lived in the same flat for ages, and is happy enough on his own. When he gets home from his first (horrible) attempt at dating in years, a new pregnant neighbor knocks on his door after smelling his cooking. He and Louis quickly become close, but their friendship gets complicated when Harry begins questioning who he is and what he likes.Or Harry discovers figuring out who you are is more complicated than a potato metaphor.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 157
Kudos: 350
Collections: OmegaHarryFicFest





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Shoutouts**  
>  I don't know where I'd be without Jo ([dearlou](https://dearlou.tumblr.com/)) tbh. She sent me [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/confessions/comments/8f91ny/today_my_next_door_pregnant_neighbor_knocked_on/) as a fic idea ages ago, which ended up here. She also helped me through my writer's block, beta'd this fic, made the moodboard, _and_ workshopped the summary with me. Per usual, Jo's been with me from ideation to publishing and I couldn't be more grateful. 
> 
> Bridget ([onlyforthebabes](https://onlyforthebabes.tumblr.com/)) has been indispensable for this fic. She helped me work through ideas, and let me whine, and was the first to read bits and pieces when it was nothing more than disjointed scenes. She loved this story even when I was unsure about it, and that powered me through most days.
> 
> Em ([cocoalou](https://cocoalou.tumblr.com/)) and I had a TIME writing our fics for this fest lol. It was so nice to have someone to check in with and cheer on! She gave me so much support and encouragement all throughout the process, it sort of felt like I had a writing teammate, which was a lot of fun and anxiety-reducing. 
> 
> Final shoutout goes to the mods of this fest, [afangirlfantasy](https://afangirlfantasy.tumblr.com/) and [the-larry-way](https://the-larry-way.tumblr.com/)! They made the process very relaxed, which made it so much easier to wrap my brain around working on this fic.
> 
>  **Disclaimers/Things to Note**  
>  \- This fic is not about Louis' pregnancy, but it's not _not_ about that either. The pregnancy is a big part of the fic, so if that's not your vibe, maybe skip this one. The end of the fic also features a baby/child.  
> \- About this ABO universe: There are no heats or ruts. Scents aren't described as physical smells, but more emotional/thought-based associations. There are societal things associated with secondary genders but not in an aggressive way. Alphas aren't the only ones who can get omegas pregnant, it's just most common.  
> \- Most of the explicit content in this fic is masturbation, but there is one a sex scene. The wanking is important to the story and characters, but it's not gratuitous. The chapter where the sex scene occurs has a beginning chapter note which tells you how to skip over it.  
> \- The London Planetarium for this fic was created entirely in my head, I have no idea what it's like in real life.  
> \- Title is from the song Honeybee by The Head and the Heart, courtesy of Bridget.
> 
> All remaining errors, grammatical or otherwise, are my own. Hope you like it! 💖
> 
> Prompt: _1\. I would love to read a Larry O/O fic where at some point one of them (or both!) is making a nest but is shy or embarrassed about it or doesn't realize he's doing it. That's it that's my only wish._

Harry’s on his way to the restaurant, ignoring the voice in his head that’s telling him to call and cancel this date. _You’re almost there, anyway,_ he thinks. It’ll be fine. 

The wind nips harshly at his skin as he spots the door for the restaurant. He tries to ground himself in the sound of passing cars. If he turns back now, he’ll have walked six blocks in the fall cold for nothing. And Jeremy had already said it was his treat. Said it several times, actually; _it was his treat_ , while giving Harry this intense sort of smile. He hesitates for an extra moment before opening the door and walking inside.

It’s a nice, atmospheric place, decorated in lots of greens and browns with gold accents and dim lighting. There’s a notably strong absence of scent, which is not something any of the reviews mentioned. Probably one of those uber-foodie places where they require everyone to wear scent neutralizers, even the betas who don’t give off a particularly potent smell. 

Some of the more upscale restaurants will give customers the option of being sprayed down so their dining companions can focus only on the smell of what they’re eating or drinking. Some trendy places do it as they experiment with other senses. Some of them do it because they think it’s not _right_ for people to go stinking up the place. Hard to tell where this place falls right off the bat. 

“Good evening,” the host says as Harry walks up to him. He’s got his blond hair slicked back in a quiff and his uniform is immaculate. “How may I help you?”

“Hello,” Harry says, starting to remove his hat and scarf. “I’m meeting someone.” 

“Name?”

“I think it's under Jeremy Wickens.”

“Are you Mr. Styles?”

Harry nods. 

“Your table is ready, but Mr. Wickens hasn’t arrived yet.” He comes out from behind the little host stand with a hanger as he says, “May I take your coat?”

Harry nods and starts shrugging himself out of the material. He holds it in one hand as he bundles his hat and scarf, getting ready to shove them inside one of the coat sleeves to keep them together. 

“If you would allow me,” the host says, gesturing for the garments. Harry hands all of it over and watches the man carefully drape the coat on the hanger, the scarf over the coat and then the hat on a small hook in the middle. Then, he walks over towards an intense black metal door and opens it to find lines and lines of coats that look like they’ve been shrink-wrapped in plastic. 

“What happened to them?” The words are out of Harry’s mouth before he realizes. 

The host smiles a polite, vacant sort of thing only someone with years of experience can summon. “We protect any clothing in our care from mixing with other patrons’ scents.”

Harry furrows his brows. “That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

The host’s mouth twitches, but otherwise his expression doesn’t change. “It’s something our patrons appreciate.”

Harry nods. So it seems like this place is one of _those_ , then. A place for those who think themselves too posh to want to mix scents with people they don’t know. He distantly wonders why Jeremy would pick a place like this, he doesn’t exactly fit the type, from what Harry knows of him. Although, he supposes he doesn’t really know anything about him at all, other than he works for one of the hospitals in the area, is a member at the planetarium, and was interested enough in Harry to ask him out. 

Finishing up the shrink-wrapping procedure, the host puts Harry’s coat on the rack with the others and closes the door. 

“Would you like to be seated?”

Ah. At a table sitting awkwardly by himself or in the lobby standing awkwardly by himself… _choices, choices._

“Yes, please,” Harry says. 

“I’ll just have you go through our descentifier to the right here, and I’ll meet you on the other side.” 

Harry feels his lips pull into a thin line and nods, watching as a deep green door is opened for him. Inside, there looks like a short, dark hallway that ends in another door. A tiny Ω is emblazoned at the top of the doorway, signifying it’s an omega-specific descentifier, and Harry realizes this place is more intense than he even originally thought. 

Normally, scent-free establishments will have a general neutralizing spray, made to cover up someone’s scent for a short period of time. This type of machine is something Harry’s only read about, but vaguely knows it will actually remove the scent on his clothes and from the top of his skin. 

He looks over at the host a bit nervously. “This is probably going to sound dumb,” he says, “but… it doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No, sir,” the host answers easily. “It’s like walking through some forceful wind. At most, there might be a light tingling feeling on your skin.”

Harry nods and turns back, taking a breath before stepping inside. The door closes behind him, and all the background noise gets shut out with it. Lights turn on from the pressure of his feet, moving up the sides of the rounded black box. Just in front of him, there is a sign that lights up in a deep green neon colour, a countdown. 

3...2...1… WALK

So Harry takes a couple of steps forward, bracing himself as the machine starts whirring. The wind pushes against his skin, coming from the top of the box and the sides, ruffling his paisley purple button down enough that it makes a flapping noise. It’s not painful, but it takes a moment to adjust his breath so it doesn’t feel like he’s choking. Harry squints through the air as he takes another couple of steps forward until he’s at the end of it, met with a sleek black door that says, _Thank you for using Descrete’s Evolution No. 2 Omega Descentifier._ And then, in a smaller font just below it, _Effects may last up to 24 hours._

Harry’s more than a little miffed now that Jeremy didn’t mention this. It’s not that he hasn’t used scent neutralizers before and he’s not upset, exactly, about hiding his scent, but this feels like something he should have been given a heads up about. 

The whirring stops once Harry opens the door. The host is on the other side, as he said he would be, with that polite smile. Harry tugs at his shirt a bit so it doesn’t feel like it’s stuck to his skin. 

The host leads him to a table in the middle of the room, and pulls out his chair. Harry looks around as he sits down, noticing only one or two open tables in the sea of people. Once Harry’s sat, the host places the menu directly in his hands and asks, “Can I interest you in sparkling water?”

“Still water is fine, thank you.”

The host nods and walks away. Less than ten seconds later, there’s a young woman dressed in a crisp white shirt with a sharp black bow-tie pouring water into a glass for him. Harry thanks her and looks over the menu. 

It’s the sort of place that has a tasting menu, which Harry’s always wanted to try, but that’s a minimum of two hours sitting here with someone he’s not even sure he wants to be out on a date with. 

Harry closes his eyes briefly and breathes. This restaurant is lovely, and the waitstaff seem attentive, so it’ll be a nice experience here, at least. And maybe Jeremy had good reason for not telling him about the descentifiers, or maybe he thought Harry would look it up beforehand and see that. He shakes his head, and refocuses on the menu. 

He’s read through it in its entirety three times before Jeremy shows up, grinning beatifically as he weaves his way around the tables and approaches him. Harry smiles back and pulls his menu closer to his chest. 

Jeremy is tall and lean, with an angular face and an infectious happy-go-lucky attitude. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, before Harry can say hello, “I had to help one of the other residents with something before I left.” 

He pulls out his chair and sits down. Looking over Jeremy’s shoulder, Harry sees the host looking dismayed, and it doesn’t take him long to figure out why. 

“Oh,” Harry says involuntarily. Jeremy’s alpha scent reminds him of feeling nervous about doing something perfectly acceptable, like taking pictures of street art on a weekday afternoon. It’s not unpleasant, but the uneasiness it creates for Harry is more noticeable now in a room devoid of scent.

From the corner of his eye, he sees other patrons turn to look at Jeremy with surprised (and in one case, outraged) expressions.

“How was your day?” Jeremy asks, oblivious, folding his hands over the tablecloth and still smiling at him. “You said you had a big meeting today, right? How’d that go?”

“Um,” Harry says. His eyes flicker back to where the host and now two other people are talking animatedly, pointing in their direction. “Yeah it was good. We just finalized my budget proposal.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah…”

“Now, I’m not sure if you’ve had a chance to look at the menu, but my parents came here a few months ago and said the tasting menu is the thing to do. Are you up for it?”

“Um…”

“We don’t have to, of course, just a thought.” He flashes another big smile. Then he looks a little more carefully at Harry, who keeps looking straight past him at the group that’s getting bigger. “Are you okay?”

“Sorry, I’m a little distracted. It looks like the host wants you for something.”

Jeremy turns around and they both watch the host, a manager-looking person, and three of the wait staff looking over at them and talking. He turns back around in time for Harry to catch him rolling his eyes. 

“They wanted me to go through a descentifier, can you believe that?”

Harry blinks at him. “I went through one.”

Jeremy sniffs, like he’s just now realizing. Harry doesn’t have time to feel surprised or offended or anything before he tsks at the air. “You shouldn’t have done it.”

“I didn’t really have a choice,” Harry argues quietly.

Jeremy shrugs. “I’ve been to these kinds of places before. You just gotta show them you’re alpha enough and they back down.” Then he laughs as he looks at Harry. “Which you couldn’t have, of course. You should have waited for me at the front, I wouldn’t have let them take you through one, either.”

Harry’s eyebrows pull together and he lowers his menu against the table. “Jeremy, you should go through it. Everyone else has.”

Jeremy shrugs again and then picks up his menu. “I’ve been through one before, and I couldn’t breathe. Plus, it lasts for like four hours and I’m not going without my scent for that long.” 

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up. “Mine will last for an entire day,” he says, trying to get the point across without as much bite as he feels. 

“Oh,” Jeremy says, looking at him. He shrugs for a third time. “Well, it’s not the same for omegas. You don’t need your scent, do you.” 

Harry huffs and puts the menu down entirely. “You don’t need it either.”

Jeremy laughs. Laughs at the idea that he doesn’t need his alpha pheromones for four hours while they’re having dinner.

“What do you need it for?” Harry asks. “We’re just eating.”

“I don’t know. To protect you.”

“Protect me?” Harry says, eyes wide, and then whispers, “From _what_?”

Jeremy looks a little confused then. “From whatever. I’m the alpha.”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before making eye-contact again. “I’m not a weak person, Jeremy.”

“I know that,” Jeremy says. “Just calm down a second.”

Harry scoffs. “Wow.”

“You seem really worked up right now. Do you want me to scent you?”

“ _Wow_ ,” Harry says, with even more emphasis.

“Are you seriously gonna pick a fight over this?” He still seems confused, but now also like he’s trying to hide his annoyance. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “It’s just biology, Harry, it’s nothing to get upset about. We can’t help it.” 

“I’m not trying to argue about biology, I’m trying to say that everyone else here has gone through the descentifier and it's rude to think it shouldn’t apply to you.”

Before Jeremy can respond, the manager-looking person is at their table. She’s got long straight hair tucked neatly behind her ears and a professionally stern expression. 

“Hello,” she says, clasping her hands together. “I think you accidentally skipped our descentifying process. I’m going to need you to come with me quickly to go through it.”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t an accident,” Jeremy says easily. “I just can’t go through one of those things.”

Harry closes his eyes and shakes his head minutely. 

“I see,” she says, still smiling, like that’s what she expected him to say. “Well, we appreciate you joining us tonight, but our scent policy is non-negotiable, so if you refuse to adhere to our process, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Jeremy looks up at her and flashes a charming smile. “I totally understand. I just have a condition, so I can’t go through a descentifier. I think I mentioned that to the lad at the front.”

“Yes, he did say you said that,” the manager says, “but there are no conditions that prohibit you from going through a descentifier, I’m afraid. If you’re nervous about it, I can assure you it’s perfectly safe and only lasts ten seconds. Your dining companion can confirm.” 

She gestures to Harry, and he wasn’t prepared to be a part of this conversation, so he just nods awkwardly. 

Jeremy’s smile gets a little tighter around the edges. “It’s a real condition, you should do better research.” 

The manager smiles tightly in return. “I understand. Unfortunately, our policy is that everyone in the restaurant needs to be completely devoid of scent in order to have the best experience. If you can’t go through our process to eat here, I’m going to respectfully ask you to leave.”

“Listen, I’m just trying to have a nice date with my omega,” Jeremy says. Harry cringes. He notices and quickly corrects, “I mean my omega friend.” It doesn’t help. “Can you make an exception for us?”

“I’m afraid not.” She looks sympathetic, but Harry can see the signs of a well-worn customer service facade. She steps back to give them room to stand. 

Harry starts to scoot his chair back when Jeremy extends his arm, palm down, as a gesture for him to stop. 

“We’re already sitting, I think you should let us stay.” 

Harry looks around at the other patrons as subtly as he can. The majority of people are talking amongst themselves as they eat, but look over at their table often enough to make Harry feel the weight of their eyes. 

She blinks at Jeremy, and smiles again. “I’m sorry, sir, it’s policy.”

“I’d like to speak to a manager.”

“I am the manager.”

“Well, then, I’d like to speak to the owner.” 

Harry looks at him wide-eyed, scoffs a surprised sound, and starts to stand. 

“No, Harry, sit,” Jeremy says, voice light and eyes bright, but there’s some stress around the edges. “I think there’s just a misunderstanding.”

Harry stands up and pushes his chair in towards the table. “I’m sorry,” he says to the manager and starts to walk away. 

“Harry wait,” he hears behind him, but he keeps walking until he can round the first corner he sees. It brings him to a short hallway. He hears movement behind him, and before he really thinks about it, he turns left into the kitchen and leans back against a wall on the inside of the room. 

There’s a set of long metal work tables in front of him with grills and stoves on the opposite side against the wall. Four people in white chef’s coats do various flipping and turning and plating. Servers are moving on the side closest to him, grabbing plates and stabbing tickets on the spindle and not even glancing at him. He’s there for a few minutes before someone notices. 

A man in a white chef’s coat makes eye contact with him as he sets a plate under the warmer and then does a double take, narrowing his brown eyes when he realizes he’s someone out of place. 

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he demands. A couple of other white-coats and servers look at him, but then just turn away and continue their jobs. 

Harry gulps and says, “I’m hiding.”

“Can’t hide in my kitchen, pal.”

“Sorry,” Harry says again, but makes no effort to move. 

The man huffs but then gets a plate thrust in front of him and has to refocus his energy on that. Harry stands and observes for another few minutes before the same man puts two plates down again with the last kitchen ticket and makes his way around the work tables. 

“Seriously, it’s dangerous to have you in here,” he says as he walks towards Harry. “And I’m liable for everyone in my kitchen.”

“I know,” Harry says. “I just don’t want to chance running into my date.”

The man crosses his arms over his chest and looks worried then. “What happened? I can get Maria to kick them out if they got aggressive with you.”

Harry is pleasantly surprised by his concern. Although he can’t smell him (Harry thinks kitchen staff must also have to go through descentifiers from the lack of scent in the room), he’s almost positive this man is alpha. His build is strong and solid, as is typical with alphas, but he’s also got a comfortable confidence that usually only comes with knowing the world was built for you. 

“I think she’s already kicking him out,” Harry says, and then elaborates with, “He didn’t want to remove his scent.”

“Ah,” the man says, then he rolls his eyes. “Some alphas always want to push the boundaries, no matter what they are. Did you tell him it’s only four hours? You clearly went through it, and know it’s not that bad.”

“Oh, I’m—”

“Chef Payne,” someone calls behind him. The man turns and sees one of the other white chef-coats gesturing to a stack of tickets coming through. 

Chef Payne sighs again and turns back to Harry. “Never ends.” He’s got a wry smile. “I’ll let you stay for a few more minutes, but keep out of the way. And I need you gone by 7:30pm, since that’s when the first course of the tasting menu goes out and there’re already too many people in my kitchen.”

Harry nods. “Yes, okay. Thank you.”

Chef Payne nods and then clasps him on the shoulder and turns around to go back to his workstation. “Okay,” he says as he picks up the new stack of tickets. “I’ve got ten soups, three crab salads, and two bruschetta all day.” Another ticket comes through the machine and Chef Payne grabs it. “Make that five salads all day.”

Harry watches for several more minutes, at the pace of the kitchen and the intensity of it all, before sneaking out of the room. He peaks around the corner to the front area, and when he doesn’t see Jeremy, he steps out. The host says nothing, just goes to get the vacuum-sealed bag with his things and gets them out. 

For a moment it’s strange to smell himself on his clothes after not being around anyone’s scent for half an hour. It smells like long, grueling days of doing something you enjoy and falling asleep exhausted. Harry hums and notes that he’s never smelled himself quite like that before. It’s kind of nice; there might be something to this whole concept afterall. 

He gives a small smile and wave to the host who nods at him and then turns away to greet the two people just walking into the restaurant. 

Harry exits and starts his walk. Normally, he’d take the closest train back to his flat, but he feels like he needs to move after all of that, so he heads to the next station instead.

As he walks, he pictures the kitchen again, to the way the whole group moved with such ease, the balance of everyone there and the subtle ways they seemed to communicate. He thinks back to ten years ago, fresh out of college and thinking about culinary school. Sighing as he remembers the terrified look on his mum’s face as he mentioned it to her. Historically, kitchens haven’t been kind to omegas, and it clearly made her nervous. So he went to uni instead, saving everyone the anxiety. 

Looking at the group around the workbenches, Harry could have made guesses on the secondary genders for most of them. He doesn’t think any of them are omegas, but clearly the Chef thought Harry was an alpha. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered, in a place like that, where no one can smell anyone. 

The entire journey back to his flat takes a little less than half an hour, and his stomach grumbles as he opens the door. Right, he never did get dinner. 

After hanging up his things, he goes to the refrigerator and pulls ingredients out to make something. It’s one of his favourite recipes which always serves as a comfort food when things don’t go to plan. He’s made this after more than a few dates, even after ones where he’d actually eaten. 

He cuts some veggies and tries to process his feelings. He wishes he was better at it: dating. Wishes he was the type of person who could just go on a date with an alpha and not spend the entire time overthinking everything he’s doing, everything he’s saying, what he looks like, how the other person is acting about him...

The thing is, he’s normally a confident person. Shy sometimes, sure, but he can stand on his own in almost any situation and not have the anxious inner monologue that he has before and after his dates. He doesn’t know why the _dating_ aspect makes it so hard. 

Sometimes it’s like it’s not even him going. It feels like he sends someone who looks like him and smells like him, has all the same thoughts Harry has and does all the things Harry would do, but it’s not him, not really. He doesn’t know when that disconnect happens. 

Making the sauce is comforting and methodical as he thinks about what happened tonight. He wasn’t even that excited to go out with Jeremy in the first place. He’s a nice enough person, always a little sweet on Harry since he started coming to the planetarium and saw him working at one of the fundraising events. 

Jeremy usually wanted to talk to Harry about whatever philosophy book he was reading that Harry clearly hadn’t read. He’d make suggestions on events Harry’d been putting together for weeks, or he’d talk about films Harry’d never seen and couldn’t comment on. And tonight, the clear inability to think about anyone else, was icing on the cake. 

Still. He remembers talking to his coworker, Candace, about this date earlier. He thinks about how excited she was for him, at them _finally_ getting together. How she bit her lip as she’d said he looked like he had the perfect mouth for a dirty snog.

For as long as he’s known her, Candace has never been shy about what she wants or how she feels. It’s very omega of her, to lean into her emotions that way. For someone like Harry, who’s always felt like he has to hold himself back at least a little, it’s equally confusing and inspiring.

Harry tries to picture kissing Jeremy now, like he’d tried picturing it when Candace said it. Jeremy’s objectively good-looking. Light blue eyes and honey-coloured hair, strong jaw and deep laugh. Even looking at all of that, Harry just can’t bring himself to imagine feeling their lips pressed together in a way that doesn’t make him want to push away. 

For the thousandth time, Harry wonders what’s wrong with him.

Around 9pm, just as he turns the burner off, Harry hears a knock at the door. He turns towards it and stares for a moment, wondering who the hell that could be. 

He’s been living in this building in this same unit for four years now and never, not once, has someone knocked on his door. He pulls the kitchen rag off of his shoulder to wipe his hands before draping it over the oven handle. He pauses then, wondering if he just imagined the knock, when it happens again. 

He steps up to the door quietly. Harry’s a friendly person, generally, but he’s also a touch overly-cautious, so… better safe than sorry. 

Looking through the spyhold, the image is slightly distorted, but he sees a man with brown feathery hair and scruff. He’s wearing a soft-looking grey sweater and holding something round-ish in his hands, but Harry can’t quite make out what it is. 

“Who is it?” he asks. 

The man’s eyes flit around the door as he speaks. “Hi,” he says, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his head. “I’m Louis. I moved into the flat across the hall a few weeks ago. 2F.”

Harry does remember a moving truck out front a little while ago, but Harry was preoccupied with the upcoming fundraiser at the planetarium to pay any mind.

As quietly as he can, Harry breathes in through his nose, taking a sniff. It’s muted through the door, but it’s enough for Harry to confirm he’s omega. The smell is light and not too fragrant, like a comforting routine. Like drinking coffee on a Sunday morning where you have nothing to do. 

Deciding that there isn’t any immediate danger, Harry unchains the door and opens it. 

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi,” the man —Louis— says. He blinks a few times and Harry notices the intense _blueness_ of his eyes. He takes a breath while his nose scrunches up. “I’m sorry to bother you, it’s just…” he breathes in through his nose and his eyes flutter closed for a moment, almost involuntarily. “That smells really good.”

Harry feels his eyebrows raise and he lets out a surprised puff of laughter, which causes Louis to open his eyes again. He looks down and notices the object in Louis’ hand: a bowl. 

“Ugh, I swear, I’m not some nutter who just knocks on people’s doors and begs for food,” Louis says. Then he laughs self-deprecating and adds, “Usually, anyway.”

He puts a hand on his belly and says “I’m pregnant, and I’ve not been able to eat anything in the last two days. Literally, everything I’ve gone near has made me gag. I’m hungry, but little love just doesn’t want _anything… except_ whatever it is you’re cooking. Because of course.” He ends up sounding exhaustedly amused towards the end, and it makes Harry smile. Harry notices the bags under his eyes as Louis says, “So now I’m here, begging you for food. Just a little! Literally a spoonful right now would be great.”

Harry looks at him and then looks back into his flat and then back to Louis. “You want my food? Based on how it smells?”

Louis sighs and then breathes in through his nose again, like he can taste it already. He nods. “I’m really sorry.” 

“No,” Harry’s quick to say. Then he lets out a small laugh. “No need to be sorry. Uhm, come on in.” 

“You don’t mind?” his eyes are wide and hopefully, hands clutching onto his bowl a little tighter. 

“Of course not. I usually make too much, anyway.” 

“Thank you,” he says sincerely. “Thought I was going to die of starvation, if I’m honest. It seems never-ending.”

He takes a step inside where Harry’s holding open the door for him and makes his way further into the flat without waiting for Harry to lead the way. Harry closes the door behind him with a small smile on his face. 

Harry finds him in the kitchen, standing next to the stove with his eyes closed, breathing deeply. His neck is extended, and Harry notices there isn’t a mating mark there, like he might expect. _Of course, don’t have to be mated to get pregnant, Harry,_ he thinks.

Louis turns to look at him, awe in his voice when he asks, “What is it?”

“Panang curry,” Harry says. 

“I’ve never heard of that, but fuck I want to eat it,” he says. 

A laugh bursts out of Harry unexpectedly, startling himself enough that he clasps a hand over his mouth to try and contain it. 

Louis smiles at him and then groans, putting both hands and the bowl up to his face. “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry. You’re seeing me at my worst right now: hungry, tired, would kill someone for a cuddle.” He pulls his hands away abruptly, looking mortified. “Oh my god, I’m in your flat, stealing your food, and I don’t even know your name.” 

Laughing, he says, “I’m Harry.”

“Harry. Well, one less thing to be embarrassed about, I suppose.” He shrugs as if to say, _what can you do._

Nodding, Harry holds out his hand to take the bowl and Louis hands it over gratefully. He grabs a large utensil to spoon some rice out of its pot and looks over at him again. 

“How far along are you?” he asks. 

“Just gone twelve weeks, so about three months,” Louis says, “and this morning sickness doesn’t seem to want to quit.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, ladling the curry in the bowl. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Louis shrug. “It is what it is. All the books say it’s normal through the end of the first trimester. Some have it all throughout their pregnancy.” He looks down to his belly and points a finger at it sternly. “Which will _not_ be happening to us.”

Harry tries to hide his grin as he reaches for the parsley. He pulls off a few leaves and places them carefully in the middle of Louis’ bowl of curry. 

“You a chef then?” Louis asks. 

Harry falters for a moment with the last few leaves and looks over at Louis, whose eyes are locked on the bowl he brought, licking his lips almost subconsciously. 

“No,” Harry says with a sigh, “no I just like cooking.” He finishes up and then hands it over. “Do you, ehm, do you want to taste it? See if you need more rice, or if it’s too spicy? Harder to make it mild, but I could add some more coconut milk—”

“I’m sure it’s delicious,” Louis says, cutting him off from babbling on about spice levels, which Harry thinks is for the best. “Thank you so much, Harry, honestly I owe you one.” And then he turns away a little, smiling at him before stepping carefully towards the door. Harry nods and pulls at the sleeves of his shirt a little self-consciously as they walk towards it together. 

He pulls the door open and says, “Enjoy.”

Louis looks down at his little bowl again hungrily, sending a wave over his shoulder as he walks diagonally across the hall and into his flat, which seems to be unlocked. His alpha must be home, Harry thinks. He closes the door and goes back to make his own bowl of food, taking the same care and attention with the plating as he did with Louis’. 

Harry thinks about Louis as he finishes his own portion, cleans up, and puts his leftovers away. Sighs in wonder about how lovely it must be to be settled and expecting a baby (morning-sickness notwithstanding). One would have to have sex to be in that position, and Harry hasn’t had sex outside of his two relationships. And both of those just happened, once at the start of uni and one just after he’d graduated. Tonight feels representative of how dating alphas just is out in the world, and he thinks he’ll pass. 

He sighs deeply as he gets into bed, naked as usual, and half-heartedly wraps a hand around himself, pumping slowly to work himself up. He closes his eyes and tries to picture someone else touching him. His mind immediately brings up Jeremy, since he was the last alpha he saw, but he quickly shakes that thought away. After what happened, Harry can’t picture him being very attentive. 

Sean, his first relationship, was a lovely alpha. He liked to take charge in bed, which Harry loved, but always got a little agitated when it would take Harry ages to get wet. After the third time, Harry bought some lube so they wouldn’t have to worry about it, and Sean seemed to enjoy himself more, which made Harry happy. 

Carter, his last relationship, started out as a lovely alpha, showering Harry with flowers and chocolates and made him feel special. He remembers thinking that this felt different, that this felt more right. It took a few months for them to sleep together, since Harry wasn’t keen on it, which Carter said he understood. When they finally did have sex, Carter didn’t kiss him once, and handled his cock roughly once he'd finished and realized Harry hadn’t come yet. It got a little better as time went on, but Harry generally preferred his nights alone where he could touch himself the way he liked. 

Sometimes he watches porn, to have some visual stimulation, but it usually takes him forever to find something that works for him, so tonight, it’s just whatever he can come up with in his head. 

Now, with one hand around his cock and the other trailing up and down his thigh, he tries to think of someone, any alpha who looks like they could make him feel good. He tries to focus on the face of someone he’s seen on TV who has kind eyes and a strong build, but eventually that face fades away, like it always does, and it’s just the idea of _somebody_ touching Harry. 

_Somebody,_ referred to only vaguely as _Alpha_ in his head, runs his hands up along his skin, touches him gently, teasingly, until he can’t take it anymore and Harry has to touch his rim, rubbing around it with a couple of fingers. He’s wet now, after working himself up for a while, and the slide feels so good against the sensitive skin. 

_Alpha_ drags some slick up from Harry’s entrance to make the glide smoother on his cock. _Alpha_ kisses at Harry’s neck and jaw, breathing heavily against him and saying things like _you’re so good for me_ and _just watching you gets me so hot. Alpha_ knows just when and where to touch to make Harry pant. Doesn’t mind when Harry’s not that loud. Is so good at doing everything just right to make Harry fall apart, and know when to double down to push him over the edge. 

Harry comes with a hand on his cock and two fingers half inside him, and his head tipped back against the pillow, breathing hard with his neck exposed, where he imagines _Alpha_ would kiss and lick to bring him down. 

_Alpha_ of course isn’t actually here to help clean him up, so Harry shuffles out of bed and goes to the toilet to wipe up the come and the slick still leaking out of him. There’s always so much of it when it’s just himself, he doesn’t know why his body couldn’t do the same when he’s actually had an alpha in bed with him. Oh well. 

He gets back into bed and scoots over to the other side so he doesn’t have to lay in the wet spot, since he’s too lazy to change the sheets right now. He’s sated and content, thinking about how nice this night turned out, even in spite of the weird date. It felt good to give Louis a meal, to take care of someone again. That part he really does miss about both of his relationships. 

He decides that he’ll pop over tomorrow morning before work and drop off the curry leftovers to Louis. He wants to try out a new recipe, anyway, so giving him something he can eat will help both of them. Who knows, maybe this will become a routine. Maybe they’ll even become friends. 


	2. Chapter 2

Just before 8am the next morning, Harry knocks on the door to Louis’ flat. He drums his fingertips on the side of the curry container as he waits. After a few seconds, he hears movement on the other side of the wall, a bang, a string of curse words shouted and then muttered, before the door finally opens. 

“Oh,” Louis says, looking at him, a little stunned. He’s dressed in a pale grey button down and black trousers. Only now, with something a little more form-fitting, can Harry see just the hint of a baby bump. “Uh, hi, um...” Louis’ eyebrows pull in and he stares at Harry’s face. “Um…” He squints.

“Harry,” he offers. 

“Right! Harry,” Louis says, smiling now instead. “Sorry, pregnancy brain.” He puts a hand on his belly as his eyes drop down to the container in Harry’s hands with a curious look, and then back up to his face. “Do you need something?”

“No, actually, I had something for you. I had some extra curry —I’m really not good with reigning in portion sizes when I’m cooking, unfortunately— and I thought you might like some more.”

Louis’ eyes light up. “Really?”

Harry feels warm inside with that light shining directly at him. All he can do is nod and offer out the container. Louis takes it graciously.

“Bless you, Harry. It honestly was so tasty. And I could actually finish it!” He opens the lid and leans forward with a soft grin, nose first, to smell inside. But then, all of a sudden, he jerks away, lips and jaw quivering as he brings a hand to his mouth. “No,” is all he says before he turns, sprinting further into his flat, leaving the door wide open with Harry standing on the other side of it, watching almost in slow motion as the container tumbles, toppling over onto the floor, splattering curry and rice everywhere. 

Guess not.

“Louis?” Harry calls out. He hears the unmistakable sound of retching and the slam of a door closing. 

Well… he can’t just leave the door open to Louis’ flat where anyone could walk by, but he can’t exactly close it since the curry-mess is in the way. And it doesn’t seem right to leave a mess for a pregnant person to clean up, anyway.

“I’m coming in,” Harry calls out tentatively. He waits a beat, in case Louis objects, before stepping inside. He picks up the container, and the last bits of sauce spill out of it. Harry sighs and steps further inside. 

Louis’ flat is a bit bigger, but luckily it’s almost exactly the same layout as Harry’s, so he turns left to find himself in the kitchen. There are boxes on the counter, most of them opened with newspaper and bubble wrap flowing out. Cabinets are half or fully open, but mostly empty. The flat smells like fresh paint and lemon cleaning products, but it also smells faintly of what Harry recognizes as Louis’ scent; like frosting a cake perfectly. Belatedly, he realizes he doesn’t smell anyone else’s scent in the flat, which must mean Louis is living here on his own. 

After a minute of searching, he finds some kitchen roll and cleaning spray, so he rinses off the remaining mess of hard plastic in his hands and leaves it in the sink while he goes to clean up what’s still on the floor. 

It takes a few minutes, traveling back and forth between the entryway and the kitchen to throw out bits of saturated roll, but he’s finally able to close the front door and is just throwing the last of it in the bin by the time the door to the toilet around the corner opens up and Louis steps out. 

“Sorry,” Louis says, not making eye contact with Harry. “Like I said yesterday, morning sickness has been ruthless.”

“As long as my food didn’t make you sick,” Harry says. “Or, well…”

“No,” Louis is quick to say. “Truly, Harry, I wasn’t lying when I said it was the only thing I could keep down. I guess just not twice.” He turns to his left to look at the door to his flat and then at Harry. “I’m so sorry you had to clean that. You were just trying to do something nice and I’ve made a mess of your morning.”

Harry shakes his head as he washes his hands. “No issue.” Louis looks doubtful, which makes Harry laugh and say, “Honestly. I was just worried for you. Puking is the worst.”

Louis shrugs and closes his eyes briefly. “You get used to it, as much as you can get used to vomiting up your stomach lining.”

It’s more gross than funny, but it makes Harry laugh anyway. He leans over to grab another bit of kitchen roll to dry his hands when he notices the time on the clock above Louis’ stove. “Ah, I’ve got to get going.” 

“Yes, of course,” Louis says. “I’ve got to change, anyway.” And it’s then that Harry notices a dark spot on the sleeve of his shirt where it looks like it’s been scrubbed with soap. “Thank you for the thought of more curry,” he says as they walk towards the door. 

Harry nods. “I hope you get some respite soon.”

Louis laughs, “Me too.”

He opens the door, and Harry sends a little wave over his shoulder as he walks out of the flat and through the hall before heading down the stairs, goes on his way to work.

The tube ride from his flat to the planetarium is a comforting kind of monotony. It’s one he’s been taking for six years now, since he started there as part-time event staff. He’s done different jobs since then, but the commute has remained the same. 

Currently, his role is Experience Coordinator, which isn’t all that indicative of what he actually does but it looks good on his CV and it means he gets to report directly to Victoria Hales, the planetarium’s Director of Development. She started out as an exhibition curator a couple of decades ago, but eventually took charge of fundraising, and then education programs, and now is in charge of pretty much everything to do with how people see the planetarium from the second they step through the door. She’s equally awe-inspiring and terrifying. 

When he gets in, he waves at the front-desk staff who are setting up for the day as he walks around the corner. At the door, he scans his access card and walks through it down the hallway and into his office. 

Candace is already there; her long black hair is pulled up into a high ponytail today, wearing a fitted black dress with angles almost as sharp as her jawline. Her brown eyes are laser-focused as she types furiously on the keyboard, only stopping once he’s actually walked past her desk and around to his. 

She wrinkles her nose and says, “What happened to you?”

Harry snorts and rolls his eyes as he turns around and sits at his desk on the other side of the room. “You can’t say that everytime you don’t like my outfit, you know. It’s rude.”

They’ve been sharing office space for the last couple of years and her scent is directly reflective of that for him: soothing repetitive tasks with a hint of a craving you don’t know how to pinpoint. 

“Not that. It’s not terrible today, actually,” she says, looking him up and down. He’s wearing a blue button-down with a black polka-dot tie and a pink jacket over. Harry rolls his eyes again. “Something just… feels off. Did you cut your hair at home again?”

Candace’s looking at the top of his head carefully even after Harry shakes his head. 

“Stop that,” he says. He tries to figure out what she could possibly mean when he realizes what she’s noticing. “It’s probably because I went through a descentifier last night.” 

She stops inspecting him and her eyes bug out at that. “Oh, fuck, yeah that’s it!” After her initial triumph, she looks confused. “Why?”

“Just for fun,” Harry deadpans. He starts setting himself up for the day, looking at the to-do list he wrote out the day before. He’s got a few things he has to get done before his lunch meeting with Victoria and the planetarium’s sales team to talk about projections and whatever else it is they need.

An hour passes in relative silence as they work, until suddenly Candace is jumping out of her chair saying “Aha!” and rushing over to him, closing the door to their office as she goes before spinning his chair to face her. “Your _date_!” She has a delighted look on her face, one that reminds Harry of someone who’s invested in the drama but has nothing to lose. “How’d it go? Where’d he take you? Somewhere fancy, right? Had to be if there were descentifiers. Tell me everything, please, I have to know.”

“Why?” Harry says.

“Because friends tell each other about their dates and whether those dates snogged their faces off.” They’re not really friends, Harry thinks, but he doesn’t have time to say that before she’s continuing. “So come on… what was it like? Did he use lots of tongue? Can’t tell if he looks like the kind that wants to hear you whine for it or just dives right in.” 

Harry scrunches up his face and tries to turn his chair around, feeling his cheeks heat up at even thinking about trying to explain what happened last night. 

Just then, their joint office phone rings where it hangs on the wall between their two desks. The building and institution are both old and stubbornly set in menial ways that make it too headache-inducing to get their own phones or even to just move the current phone to one of their desks. Victoria calls their mobiles if she needs something and vendors mostly communicate by emails, so the only calls coming in through this phone are forwarded from the front desk. Because it’s easily the most inconvenient part of either of their jobs, they alternate who has to answer it. 

It’s her turn, so Candace leans over to pick it up. 

“Hello? Jeremy!” Candace says excitedly, standing up straighter, eyes bright as she looks at Harry. “Harry and I were just talking about you.”

Harry grimaces and she gives him a curious look and then she switches back to listening. 

“Yeah, he’s here,” she says, and Harry starts waving his arms wildly to say that _no he isn’t._ Luckily, she picks up on it quickly and says, “But he’s just left to go a meeting. Uh-huh. Sure I’ll uh… leave a message that you called. Great. You too.”

And she hangs up. 

He’s anxious about the possibility of having to talk to Jeremy at all, but he’s grateful it doesn’t have to be today, at least. Harry’s never been one for conflict, and that conversation feels conflict-adjacent at the very least. Maybe Jeremy will just forget they ever tried to go out. Or maybe his membership will expire immediately and he won’t renew and will never come to the planetarium again. 

One can dream.

Candace taps her fingernails against the desk and says, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Harry shrugs and says, “He just wasn’t for me.”

Candace nods and her mouth pulls to the side, apologetic. “Sorry if I pushed you into it.”

He’s already shaking his head. “No. I wanted to. Thought I wanted to, anyway.” 

“What happened?”

“It’s just… it’s like… it’s just sort of everything piled up on top of each other?” He looks off to the side and thinks. 

It’s that Jeremy didn’t think to put anyone but himself first. It’s that he feels like someone who wants to _have_ someone, and Harry’s not sure he wants to be had. 

Candace adjusts to sit on the edge of Harry’s desk, facing him and listening. 

“It’s him not telling me there were descentifiers,” he says, “and saying that he needs his scent to _protect me_. And he’s someone who says _my omega_ and I’m not sure I like that.”

It’s that Harry felt like Jeremy wanted to seem like he was listening, but there was no understanding. It’s that Harry didn’t feel like himself. It’s that Harry never feels like himself when he’s out like that. 

“It was just… everything.”

“Harry, have you ever been with someone who wasn’t an alpha?”

It’s so wildly out of where Harry is mentally, he can’t help but laugh. “What?”

She shrugs. “Sounds like you don’t like some of his more alpha traits, so maybe you don’t want to be with an alpha.”

Harry shakes his head and tries to figure out how that connects to what he’s talking about. “Um, no, I don’t think so,” he says. “I like alphas.” He’s an omega, of course he likes alphas. He’s biologically predisposed to want to be with alphas. 

Candace looks at him with intense eyes that Harry doesn’t know how to respond to. “I’m not trying to sway you either way, just… there’s no wrong answer, you know?”

He doesn’t, but he nods anyway and it seems to satisfy her because she goes back to her desk. Something about the conversation has Harry feeling jittery, but he shakes his head to get himself out of it and gets back to work. 

They go about their days, with calls and emails and meetings. They have a particularly grueling meeting with their sales team that makes him feel like his brain is trying to ram its way out of his head. He tries to pay attention to the presentation and concerns instead of the nagging feeling inside of him. 

Candace looks at him a little more often than normal throughout the day, and Harry pretends not to notice. Hours later, at exactly at 5pm, Candace shuts down her computer and starts packing up. 

She pauses at the door, glancing at Harry who’s still finishing up a grant proposal at his desk. “Hope you know didn’t mean anything by what I said earlier, Harry.”

He finishes typing a sentence and looks up at her. He knows exactly what she’s referring to, about the dating alphas thing, so he just nods. “No, yeah,” he says. “No worries. Have a good weekend, Candace.” 

She taps her fingertips against the doorframe before walking through it. 

Harry stares at his computer screen for a few minutes before gathering himself up, collecting his things, and leaving. 

He stops by the grocery store on his way home in order to buy things for dinner. He likes cooking and he likes having food at home, but the process of shopping is sometimes too much for him, with all of the options and people milling around, not looking where they’re going and standing in front of all the things he needs. 

In the shop, he’s only in the first aisle when he’s apologized half a dozen times to people who bump into him. He tries not to let himself get overwhelmed, though, and just powers through as politely as he can and tries to finish up quickly. 

He’ll take a stim when he gets home, which will help with anxiety. Stimulants are normally used to increase chemicals in the brain that one would get from physical contact, which is perfect for omegas who live alone or don’t get enough touch, but they also have a bonus side effect of keeping Harry calm. He tries not to take them every day, but sometimes he just needs the extra boost. 

He’s making chicken parmesan tonight because he panicked and grabbed fresh mozzarella instead of goat cheese and chicken instead of pork. Since he’s got marinara sauce pre-made in his freezer, it all works out. 

There’s a knock on his door as he’s switching off the oven. Harry goes over to it, looks through the spyhole and then smiles a little to himself as he opens the door. 

“Hi Louis,” he says.

“Hi Harry,” Louis says. He’s wearing a black blazer, a dark blue button down, unbuttoned enough to see the white undershirt, and a black tie that hangs loose around his neck. He’s holding a little white box. “I’m sorry about this morning. I picked up some…” And he stops and scrunches up his nose with a puzzled look on his face. “Picked up some…”

Harry laughs and opens the door for him. “You can come in, I’m just finishing up making dinner.”

It’s nice to see him, actually. Nicer than Harry expected, seeing as they only just met the day before. But Louis is here again, and obviously likes the smell of his food tonight, and after the day he’s had, it would feel nice to just make someone happy. 

Louis walks in and heads towards the kitchen, same as he did the night before, but he’s openly sniffing the air now. Harry smiles and blushes a little and goes to grab two plates. 

“I usually make the pasta fresh, but it was a long day, so it’s just out of a bag.” He starts plating for both of them, finishing it off with fresh sauce on top. “Lucky I make sauce in batches ahead of time.”

“Hm,” Louis hums. 

Harry turns to hand Louis his plate, and he looks at it in surprise. 

“Oh,” he says softly. “It’s not… I’m sorry I wasn’t— oh my god is that chicken parmesan?” 

Harry smiles at him. “Yeah.”

“And you just made this?”

Harry laughs. “It’s not that hard.”

“It’s got more steps than ‘ _boil water, add pot noodle, put in bowl’_ so it’s out of my comfort zone.” Then he tilts his head forward to sniff it deeply, and the resulting moan is equally funny and unexpected. Harry laughs at it and when Louis realizes, he blushes and does too. 

“You can take that back with you, if you want.” Louis’ eyes crinkle at the sides as he looks back down at the plate thoughtfully, without saying anything. “Or… you could eat here, if you’d like.”

Louis looks up eagerly. “Really?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Sorry,” he chuckles, “sorry, it’s just… had a shit day at work. And it’s been a while since I’ve had a meal with someone where it wasn’t a brainstorming session.” Harry tilts his head, and Louis obviously anticipates his question, continues with, “I work in marketing, and we have lunches all the time, but they’re usually spent trying to come up with the best concept or tagline for the current project.”

“Marketing. That sounds exciting,” Harry says. He grabs utensils for them both out of the drawer next to the stove and makes his way over to his little square table by the window. It’s pushed against the wall with three chairs around it; the fourth is under his desk in his bedroom, piled with books and forgotten clothing. 

Harry takes a seat at the end, sets his plate and silverware there, and he expects Louis to do the same across from him, but instead he pulls out the chair directly next to Harry, facing the window. 

“Yeah, I like it,” Louis says as he sits down. Harry pauses for a second, taken aback, but then sits down too. It’s normal for omegas to sit close to each other, an easy way to calm anxious energy or keep out of touch deprivation. Most omegas have experienced depri at least a couple of times in their life, and they know how uncomfortable it can be, so sitting close comes naturally. Harry just hasn’t had a lot of omega friends since he left uni. 

Louis places the white box down on the other end of the table and continues, “Lots of alphas in that field who think if they talk loud enough, I’ll just cower or submit to them.” He rolls his eyes with a smile on his face. “Little do they know, I can be louder than all of them combined. They find out pretty quick though.” He looks up, eyes shining. “And luckily, there are some great people there, besides the knotheads.”

Louis picks up his knife and fork just as his stomach grumbles. Louis looks down and then back up at Harry sheepishly. “Sorry, it’s been a long day. Kept a few crackers down late this morning but nothing else seemed appealing and I didn’t want to risk it.”

“No, of course,” Harry says. “Tuck in.”

Louis does just that, spending the next few minutes chewing and swallowing and gasping every so often. Harry feels quite pleased with himself as he works on his own plate. They eat together in companionable silence for a few minutes, and Harry realizes how much he missed having this; being able to cook for someone else, the comfort of another person. 

Louis finishes almost his entire plate and looks happy. “That was so good, thank you so much.” 

Harry’s pleased. “Glad you liked it.”

“I swear I didn’t come over to pilfer another dinner off you. I actually came by to drop off some sweets as a thank you for last night and cleaning up my mess this morning.”

“It’s no problem,” Harry says. 

“It’s a big thing, please don’t brush it off,” Louis says sincerely. “I appreciate it, really.”

Harry nods at him and then, after half a minute of silence, he nods at the white box. “So what sweets did you get?”

“Some pastries at the bakery down the block from my office. They’re heavenly. Wasn’t sure what you liked so I got a variety.”

“A variety?” Harry’s interest has peaked, so he leans across the table and reaches for it. 

When he opens it, he sees a load of different pastries and notices Louis’ blush out of the corner of his eye.

“There are like, ten different kinds.”

He groans and puts his head in his hands, elbows on the table. “I thought you had an omega.”

Harry blinks at the side of his head. “What?”

Louis groans again and says, “Yesterday and this morning I could’ve sworn I didn’t smell anything on you, but I did smell an omega around your flat, so I thought you were a beta with an omega and I brought plenty for both of you.”

Harry laughs. Hard enough that Louis peaks out from behind his hands. 

“My nose has been weird since I got pregnant, okay?” he argues. “And I was worried your omega would think I was trying to move in on you or summat so this was a gesture to say _‘I’m happy to be neighbors with_ both _of you’_. And then my nose apparently started acting right again because I smelled _you_ were the omegawhen I came in tonight. Ugh, I feel like an idiot.”

“No,” he says, still laughing. “Sorry, your nose was right. I went through a descentifier last night. Side effects are that it lasts basically a full day.” 

Louis lets his hands fall down from his face. “Oh my god.”

“I’m sure I would have thought the same.”

“Oh my _god,_ ” Louis says again. “What are the fucking odds.”

It makes Harry start laughing again and Louis joins in this time. 

“Well, you have plenty of pastries to choose from, now that you don’t have to share with your imaginary omega.”

Harry giggles again and puts the box back down on the table. “Do you want some?”

Louis looks mortified. “Harry, I’ve now robbed you of two dinners and upturned the leftovers of another.”

“I’m not really that bothered,” Harry says. “Been a while since I’ve had a meal with someone, too, so this is nice.”

Louis chews on the inside of his cheek, looking at the open box of pastries. “Well…”

Harry nods. “It’s settled then.”

Louis looks serious as he says, “Only if I can do the washing up.” 

“You don’t have to.”

“Please, Harry, let me do _something_.”

Shrugging, Harry says, “If you’d like, then.”

Louis picks up the dirty dishes from the table and they head to the kitchen. Harry puts on the kettle, after asking Louis if he’d like some tea, and makes two cups of decaf while Louis washes the plates. After, he asks where Harry’s containers are, and starts to put the leftover food away, lids left off for it to cool back down to room temperature, and washes the pans as well, ignoring Harry’s objections. 

Back at the table with their cups of tea and little plates, they divide each pastries in half and give their opinions on each one, ranking them from phenomenal to simply great. 

“I’ll have to remember this place,” Harry says. “Work buys breakfast for our morning meetings sometimes and we’re stuck in a rotation. It’ll be good to have a new place.”

“Where do you work?” Louis asks before biting into half of an eclair.

“The planetarium.”

“Oh no way! My company works on some of the adverts. I haven’t been there in ages.” He looks off to the side. “I’m a sucker for the shows you sit in those seats that lay back and look up at everything.”

“It’s been so long since I’ve been to one of those,” Harry says. 

“What? How’s that even possible, you work there!”

“I’m mostly working on projects morning ‘til evening, and when I’m there at night I’m busy making sure everything runs smoothly. No time to watch the shows. There is a new one starting this weekend, though, I can get you tickets if you’d like.”

Louis perks up. “You’d do that?”

“Of course,” Harry says, laughing. “I get comp tickets all the time, and I don’t have the chance to give them away nearly often enough. I can print a couple off for you, or you can just tell the front desk you have tickets under _Harry Styles_.” 

“Thanks,” Louis says, he holds his tea close to his chest. “That’s nice of you.”

Harry nods because he’s not quite sure what to say to that, he just knows it makes him feel warm and happy. 

“So, do you know the names of all the stars then?”

Harry laughs and they spend a few more minutes talking about work and stars and the universe, much more deeply than he’s used to, which makes him think and also wish he had a telescope. Not that he’d be able to see much of the sky with city light pollution. He makes a mental note to try and visit his mum soon; the back garden in his home village has a great view of the sky on clear nights, and he misses it. 

Suddenly another hour is gone and Louis is looking mortified all over again when he realizes, apologizing for staying past his welcome. Harry assures him he’s done nothing of the sort as he follows Louis towards his front door. 

“Thank you, again, Harry. Honestly, two fantastic dinners in a row.” He puts a hand on his barely-rounded belly. “We both loved it.”

“Good,” Harry says, smiling at him. “It was nice to have you here. Feel free to stop by anytime. Like I said yesterday, I always make too much.”

Louis laughs. “You’re too kind.”

“No,” he says. “I just like cooking, and it’s nice to have someone else to share it with.” 

“Well, if I do, I promise to do all the dishes.”

Harry laughs and nods, knowing better than to argue with him even after just spending a couple of hours together. 

“Night Harry,” he says, smiling and waving as he makes his way across the hall. 

“Night Louis,” Harry says, watching him disappear into his flat. Harry laughs again and shakes his head. 

It feels so natural, becoming friends with Louis. It should probably feel weirder than it does, but he decides not to think too hard into it. Sometimes things just happen like that, though. Sometimes people just click. 


	3. Chapter 3

It’s the afternoon and Harry is contemplating going for a wank out of boredom, when there’s a knock at the door. He opens it to find Louis, wearing an oversized white sweatshirt and carrying a plate of what looks like globs of glue in cupcake holders. 

“Help me, please,” he says.

Harry looks at the plate and says, “With what?”

Louis looks at him like he’s crazy. He holds the plate higher. “With _this_. I was trying to make cupcakes and they came out rubbish.”

“Those are cupcakes?” Harry asks. 

“Shut _up,”_ Louis says, but he’s got a smile on now. Harry holds open the door and Louis comes in and they make their way to the kitchen. Louis puts the plate down on the counter. “Tell me where I went wrong.”

Harry leans closer and picks one up. He sniffs it lightly and peels the wrapped down to see a short, dense little disc that is apparently cake. 

“Might be easier to tell you what you did right.”

“What did I do right?” Louis asks. 

“Nothing,” Harry says. Louis smacks him on the arm. “Ow!” he exclaims, holding where he was hit and giggling. 

“Every month we have game night and every month I try to make something, then _every month_ I end up binning it and buying something actually edible from Tesco. It’s the first time I’ve hosted in this new place and I want to actually make something.” He scowls at the plate. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Okay,” Harry says, “walk me through it.”

“I got the ingredients, mixed them together, and then baked them,” he says. 

“Well, yeah,” Harry says. “But maybe you used the wrong flour?”

“There’s a right flour?” Louis asks. 

“Or maybe the eggs weren’t the right temperature.”

 _“What?”_ Louis asks. He scrunches up his face and sighs. “Nevermind, I’m just going to pop down and grab some Jaffa cakes.” He goes for the plate but Harry reaches out and holds onto his forearm to stop him. 

Louis looks over, eyes wide and sad. He bites his lip. Harry grins at him and says, “I have stuff to make cupcakes, I can make some for you.”

“No, no,” Louis says, shaking his head. “It’s not the same if I get a practically professional chef to make them for me.”

Harry laughs. “Thank you, but I’m not at that level. How about we bake them together, then?”

“Harry,” Louis says, sounding scandalized, “you don’t want to spend your Saturday making cupcakes with me.”

“Why not?”

“Well,” Louis says, but then he looks at the plate of sad cupcakes and bites his lip again. “Nevermind, you _do_ want to. Or else I’ll probably poison everyone or something.”

“It’s settled then.” Harry moves around him to start grabbing bowls and spoons. 

“Wait… are you sure?” Louis asks. “I’ve caused you so much trouble already.”

Harry shakes his head. “You haven’t, honestly. Like I said last time, it’s been nice to have someone to talk to.”

Louis smiles. “Alright, if you’re sure.”

So they get to work. They debate which flavour for a few minutes before deciding on vanilla cake with chocolate frosting. Harry pulls out all the ingredients and starts explaining them to Louis, who nods along like he’s trying to understand but things aren’t totally clicking. He does get an awed look on his face when Harry talks about why everything should be at room temperature, so he’ll take it as a win. 

Louis is insistent that he do all the actual mixing, so Harry explains when to add which ingredients and stops him when they’ve got the right consistency. He’s diligent about making sure each cupcake liner is filled with the same amount of batter, and looks positively gleeful when Harry tells him he did a good job. 

Once the cupcakes are in the oven, they sit on opposite ends of Harry’s dark grey sofa, facing each other and drinking big mugs of tea.

“So, Harry, when did you become a baking master?” Louis asks and then takes a sip. It’s cheeky, but he also seems genuinely interested. 

Harry blows a raspberry in the air and says, “I dunno, really. I just like all things cooking and baking. I have since I was little.”

Louis nods. “It’s a comfort,” he says, more statement than question. 

“Yeah, exactly,” Harry says anyway. “I feel like I can focus when I’m cooking. Like I just follow a recipe, but I also know enough that I can fuff around with it, too, if I want. Feels like I know the process.” 

Louis hums. “I’d bake with me mum sometimes when I was a kid, but to be honest I was more in it to lick the spoon more than actually helping.”

Harry holds the mug close to his chest. “Close with your mum?”

“Best of friends,” Louis says earnestly. “I know everyone says their mum is the best, but mine really is. She raised me on her own for a good few years before marrying my stepdad, and I never got the feeling that I was a stress on her, which I know I was at times. I was a little, um, _mischievous,_ if you will.”

“I believe that,” Harry says. “You look like the type to lull people into a false sense of security before putting itching powder in their pants or something.”

Louis tosses his head back in a laugh. “Itching powder wasn’t my thing; was more like adding temporary hair colour to my sisters’ conditioner or sending a card full of glitter in the post.”

“Nightmare,” Harry says emphatically. 

“Mum got chewed out by a few of my friend’s parents,” Louis says, sounding half contrite and half proud. “She was never cross with me about it though. I’d even find extra glitter around sometimes that I didn’t remember buying.”

“Ah,” Harry says, “she’s got a mischievous spirit as well, then?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Louis says, fond as anything. “What about you, hm? Mischievous heart in there or are you well behaved through and through?”

Harry thinks about it for a moment. “With the right encouragement. Or maybe the wrong one.”

“Need to be prodded a little, do ya?” Louis says, smirking at him and carefully caressing the material of the sofa cushion.

Harry smiles back and shrugs. “One of my friends, Johnny, once convinced me to put all of my boyfriend’s hair products in gelatin.”

Louis’ eyebrows go up and a laugh seems shocked out of him. “Yeah? What flavour?”

Harry laughs, “ _That’s_ your question?”

“Well yeah. And ‘what happened?’”

“It was cherry, I think. And he just called me childish.” He sighs and thinks about how to word it. “Carter took so much time getting ready whenever we’d go out, and then spent the whole night checking everyone else out. When Johnny said we should put some of his stuff in a gelatin mold, it was pretty easy for me to pick what to grab. Probably a bit passive aggressive of me, but…” he shrugs and shakes his head. 

“Hmm,” Louis hums. “Does he still do that?”

“Uh, I think Johnny’s moved onto different pranks now. Last month he told me he put his girlfriend’s house keys in an upside down glass of water.” 

“No sorry, I meant your boyfriend,” Louis says, taking another sip of his tea.

“Oh,” Harry says in understanding, “no we broke up shortly after that. That was over a year ago; said he didn’t want to be tied down in his _alpha prime_.” Harry rolls his eyes. 

Louis hums again. “He sounds like a prick.”

“Well you know, that’s just the way they are.”

“The way who are?” Louis asks. 

“Alphas.”

For the first time, Louis looks a little annoyed. He turns his head to the side to stare at a spot on the wall with his fingers clasped tightly against the mug. 

Harry blinks at the change in his expression and automatically says, “I’m sorry.”

Louis turns back to him, still looking annoyed, but now confused. “What’re sorry for?” he asks, gently. 

What _is_ he sorry for? “I… don’t know.”

Louis’ face softens more, and he nods encouragingly and just waits for Harry to continue. 

“You just… it seemed like you got cross with me for saying that.”

Louis sighs and slouches a little. “I should be the one that’s sorry, then. I’m not really good at controlling my face.”

Harry shifts uncomfortably and sits in the quiet for a few seconds before he can’t take it and says, “I can, um, I can finish up the cupcakes and run them over to you if you need to head back.” 

Louis smiles, looking wryly amused as he puts his mug down on the coffee table and leans forward to put his hand down on Harry’s knee, squeezing quickly. Harry looks at it and then up to Louis. 

“I’m not cross with you, Harry, I’m sorry I made you think that. I just hate that you’ve obviously had enough bad experiences with alphas to feel that all of them are jerks.”

Harry’s taken aback by that, he starts to stumble over his words, trying to say that he knows there are lots of lovely alphas out there, when Louis pats his knee and shakes his head. 

“I know you didn’t mean it that way,” he says simply, pulling back and grabbing his mug again. “I just get a bit… well, I’ve mostly been called _aggressive_ but I prefer _protective_.” He shrugs. “I’m an older brother, there’s something built in me to be angry when people aren’t treated as they should be, and you seem truly lovely, Harry, I hate that you haven’t been treated the best.”

Harry doesn’t know what to say to that so he just stares down at his tea. 

“One of the friends coming tonight is an alpha, actually. You should come over and see that at least one of them isn’t a knob.”

“Oh, I couldn’t crash your night like that.”

“It’s not crashing if I’m inviting you.”

Harry smiles tentatively. “Let’s see how these cupcakes turn out and then you can see if you still want me there.”

As if on cue, the timer goes off, so they both stand. 

“I’ll need you there as proof that I made them, anyway. I doubt they’ll believe me, I need a witness.”

They grin at each other, silently agreeing to let the other thing go as they move to the kitchen. 

The cupcakes look perfectly done when Louis takes the tray out of the oven, and he’s beaming when Harry tells him so. They set them off to the side to cool while they make the frosting. He takes off his white hoodie and folds it haphazardly before placing it on one of the chairs at the kitchen table. He shakes his arms out, like he’s going to start boxing instead of frosting. 

Even more than before, Louis is adamant that he has to do it all himself, so Harry tells exactly how much of each ingredient to put in and when and how long to mix everything together until they’ve got buttercream. 

Louis allows Harry to show him how to frost one cupcake before meticulously frosting the other twenty-three of them with perfect swirls. He’s so giggly and delighted at the end, Harry can’t help but laugh at him for it, and they end up in near stitches on the kitchen floor over absolutely nothing. It’s great. 

They’re able to fit sixteen of them on the plate Louis brought (after binning the glue-discs), and he spends a few minutes placing them down methodically, making sure they won’t topple over or bump into each other and mess up the frosting. The rest, Louis decides to leave there. Harry figures he'll bring a few in to work this week for the front desk staff. It’s been ages since he brought in baked goods. 

Harry starts to clean —because Louis is the one who actually did the baking Harry argues— and Louis hoists himself up on the counter while he’s washing the cupcake tin. 

“Not going to be able to do that for much longer,” Louis jokes. Then he grabs one of the cupcakes from his plate —one that was most in danger of falling— and starts to unwrap it. Harry grins at him as he shrugs. “Gotta taste and make sure they’re good, right?”

“Right,” Harry agrees and leans the pan against the wall on top of the drying mat. He grabs a bowl as Louis moans. 

“Oh my god, these are the greatest cupcakes ever,” Louis says. 

“You did a great job,” Harry says. 

Louis gives him a lopsided smile. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You could have… actually no, probably not, huh?”

“Absolutely not,” Louis says emphatically and then takes another bite, moaning again. 

Harry laughs loudly and continues the washing. There’s a ding from Louis’ pocket, so he pops the last of the treat in his mouth and fishes out his mobile. It looks like he starts typing. Harry finds he likes this dynamic. That it can be comfortable and quiet between them while doing separate things in the same space. It’s one of the things he misses most about living with someone, like he did back in uni. 

When Harry puts the last bowl down to dry, Louis hops off the counter, picks up the plate of cupcakes with one hand and tugs on Harry’s sleeve with the other. “Honestly, they’ll never believe that I made these, they’re too perfect, so you _need_ to come and tell them.” 

They reach the door and Harry shakes his head at Louis’ mischievous grin. “I don’t want to intrude,” Harry tries one last time. 

“Harry,” Louis says, playfully exasperated. “Not to be that whiny omega, but I _will_ whine at you if I’m forced to listen to my friends _pretend_ to think that I made these while secretly thinking I picked them up from some posh bakery.” 

He grins and, after a pause, nods. Louis makes a triumphant fist bump in the air. Harry moves to grab his shoes, but Louis says he’s just going to take them off in a minute, so no need to bother. 

He locks the door to his flat behind him and then for the first time in his life, he walks without shoes in the hallway of the building. It causes this weird, giddy feeling that reminds him of a toddler doing something silly they think they shouldn’t be. 

Harry hears several voices as soon as Louis pushes the door open and they walk into his flat. Once voice raises above the rest of them in a sharp, scolding tone. 

“ _Louis Tomlinson.”_

All other voices stop, but Harry only sees one person. At the end of the little entryway, standing outside of Louis’ kitchen, is Chef Payne, who Harry recognizes from the restaurant the other night. He’s dressed in joggers and a plain white t-shirt, arms crossed and looking very stern. 

“What have I _told you_ about leaving your door unlocked?” 

“Eh, I know,” Louis says, shrugging as he closes and locks the door now. “But it worked out, because you all got in while I was over at Harry’s!”

Chef Payne shifts his gaze to look at Harry, but only briefly. He probably doesn’t recognize him from the other night, which is fair enough because Harry’s much more dressed down today and has his omega scent. 

“I was twenty seconds from calling the police,” Chef Payne says. 

“No you weren’t,” someone says from the kitchen. It’s a thick northern accent that sounds both teasing and gentle. “I told you he texted me.”

Chef Payne looks to his right at glares at whoever it is.

“Aw,” Louis coos. “Another lover’s spat?” he asks teasingly. 

Louis walks forward until he reaches Chef Payne and puts both hands on his shoulders to move him out of the way so he can turn left into his kitchen and out of Harry’s eyeline. 

It causes a third voice to laugh big and loud and actually… familiar. Harry takes a couple of tentative steps forward, but doesn’t follow him all the way, still about a meter away from Chef Payne. 

There’s a loud smooching sound, followed by the thick accented voice saying, “So where’d you run off to, babes?”

“I was baking these with Harry.” A pause. “Harry?” And then Louis’s head pops out from the kitchen and beckons him forward. “Come meet everyone.”

Chef Payne takes a step backwards, still glaring into the kitchen. Harry can smell him now, up close and without the effects of the descentifier. His scent is unyielding, but not aggressive. It reminds Harry of meticulously preparing a room in order to paint it. Some shade of orange, he thinks belatedly.

Harry rounds the corner and sees three other people in the kitchen with Louis. There’s a beta with dark hair and an impressive bone structure and hesitant smile, leaning back against the counter with a beer in one hand. Just to the right of him, sitting on top of the counter, is a woman --omega, Harry thinks, as he smells something that reminds him of buying fresh flowers for a friend-- who has layered blonde hair and welcoming brown eyes.

Another beta is standing in between her legs, and leaning back against her. Harry recognises his bright blue eyes and captivating smile immediately. 

“Harry!” Niall says, Irish accent as thick as ever. “How are ya?”

“You two know each other?” Louis asks, not sounding half as surprised as Harry would have expected. 

Niall takes a step forward to clasp his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Harry’s our contact over at the planetarium. Got meetings with him every month to go over usage metrics and customer surveys and all that stuff.” 

Something seems to click for Louis, who’s eyes go bright as he looks back at Harry. “I did mockups for the latest bus ad-campaign!” He puts a hand on Harry’s other shoulder and squeezes. In his own space, it seems, Louis thrives on physical touch. Or maybe it’s just in the presence of his friends. It makes Harry instantly relax, happy chemicals flooding his brain from the contact. 

Touch is something that’s always felt special for Harry —reserved for special occasions or special people— but he wishes he had more of either more consistently instead of relying so much on stims. It feels nice now, though, expressed so casually and without expectation. 

“Harry was the one who said he liked your idea to make all of the slogans puns. He even snorted at the comet one.” 

Harry feels himself blush at that, but Louis just turns and beams at him. “I loved that project,” he says to Harry, “it was so much fun.”

“He beat out the rest of the team,” Niall says, filled with pride. “You’ve never seen a group of alphas so moody.”

He and Louis laugh at that, and then Niall removes his hand from Harry and takes a couple of steps back to wedge himself between the woman’s legs again. Belatedly, Louis’ hand slides down Harry’s arm. 

“This is my fiance, Lily,” Niall says. She smiles and waves at him before wrapping her arms around Niall’s shoulders, pulling him closer. “And this is Zayn,” he adds, pointing to the man standing next to them with the pretty bone-structure. He raises a hand that’s in some type of brace to give a little wave. 

“And the one still sulking and trying to mind control me with his stare is Liam,” Louis says, leaning back against the cabinets with crossed arms and a wildly amused grin. 

“We’ve met actually,” Chef Payne —Liam— says. Harry looks over his shoulder, eyebrows raised, surprised that he remembers him. 

Louis blows a raspberry into the air. “Well, nevermind then! See, Hazza, you already know half of my friends, you were born to join game night.”

Harry smirks and turns to see Louis grinning wildly at him. He’s going to tease him about coming up with such a ridiculous nickname, but Liam speaks first. 

“Lou,” he says sternly. 

Louis sighs, placing a hand on Harry’s arm as he navigates around him, and then he and Liam disappear around the corner, Harry’d guess into Louis’ bedroom.

Harry blinks at the three left in the kitchen. Zayn and Lily are chatting quietly to each other, but Niall takes a step towards him, nodding in the direction where Liam and Louis walked away. 

“Not sure how much Lou has told you about our dynamic here.” He says it in a way that makes it seem more of a question. 

“Not much,” Harry says. 

Niall nods, like that’s what he was expecting. “Lou’s protective, I’m not surprised.” Harry wonders what that means, but Niall continues before he can get too deep into it. “He and Liam have known each other the longest, since they were teenagers, and they’ve always had this thing; Louis thinks Liam’s too serious, Liam thinks Louis’ too frivolous, but they’d fight anyone who said the same about the other. Liam didn’t like when Louis said he was moving here.”

“Why?” Harry asks. He’s always felt safe in this neighborhood, and the rent’s not too bad. 

“They used to live in the same building,” Niall explains. “Liam works crazy hours as head chef at this posh restaurant, but I think he felt better having Louis close where he could keep an eye on him… which is partly why I think Louis moved. He’s got some... life changes coming, and I think he wanted a bit of space to figure those out without someone trying to... you know.” He gestures vaguely with a shrug, and Harry nods like he understands, even though he has no idea what that’s supposed to mean. 

Just then, there’s movement behind him, and he sees them walking back towards them, Liam’s arm around Louis’ shoulders, pulling him in close to kiss the top of his head before Louis smiles and slips out of his hold, walking into the kitchen. Liam stays back a bit, leaning against the archway. 

“Right,” Louis says. His presence alone stops the chatter from Zayn and Lily, who both look at him expectantly. “Before we call for a takeaway, I need you all to be awed by the cupcakes I made.” 

Harry smiles at the side of Louis’ face as he says it while all of his friends look at the plate on the counter. After a beat, they look back to him in some sort of weird friend-group synchronization. 

“Don’t you dare,” he says to no one in particular, “I made them.”

Niall and Lily exchange a glance while Zayn stares blankly at the cupcakes. 

“Fuck you all,” Louis laughs, and then he turns to Harry. “Told you I needed you. Tell them!”

“Louis made those cupcakes,” Harry says.

Now they’re all looking at him like he’s a liar. 

“How much did Lou pay you to say that?” Zayn says. 

Harry can’t help but laugh and Louis smacks the back of his hand lightly against Harry’s abdomen. “Don’t laugh at that!” he says, even though he’s still smiling. “I had _supervision_ but I _physically made them_.”

“Oh,” Liam says, “okay, if someone else told you exactly what to do… actually I’m not sure I believe you even then.”

Louis turns towards Harry with a flourish, throwing his arms around his neck and dramatically tilting his head back so they can all still hear him say, “Hazza, apparently you’re my only friend here.”

“They’ve got ridges on the icing and everything, lad,” Zayn says, “there’s no way you did that.”

Louis collapses further into Harry’s body, and Harry finally wraps his arms around his torso as he tries not to laugh. It feels nice to be hugged like this, even if it’s only part of a joke. He can feel heat from Louis’ body and breath fan out against his throat. It’s comforting in a way he wasn't expecting it to be. 

“No one else loves me! Everyone thinks me a liar. Save my reputation, please.”

Harry chuckles and rubs circles against Louis’ upper back as he says, “I promise, Louis made every bit of those. I helped put things into the right bowls and showed him how to frost one, but he did everything else.”

“Oh,” Lily says, “ _you_ did the measuring. Yeah, okay, I’m game.” She leans over and grabs a cupcake. 

Louis makes a rude noise, but looks at her carefully as she takes a bite. When she hums and nods at the taste, Louis looks smugly at everyone else. 

“I made something for game night. Took me six years, but I did it.” 

“These are great, Harry,” Lily says. 

Everyone laughs at Louis’ offronted expression, and then Niall grabs the plate of them as they file out of the kitchen. Louis’ still hanging onto Harry until they’re all gone, and then drops the face to smile up at him. 

“They’re great, aren’t they?” he says. It’s not really a question, but Harry grins and nods. “Right bastards they are,” he says fondly. Then he slides his hands down from Harry’s neck and takes a step back. “Sorry,” he says, straightening out the bottom of Harry’s t-shirt from where it got skewed on his hip. 

Harry shakes his head. “Nothing to be sorry for.”

Louis smiles shyly at him, looking up through his eyelashes. But it drops slightly as his eyes widen and he blinks a few times. Then he shakes his head. He takes a step backwards and then sideways, grabbing Harry’s hand at the last minute to pull him along. 

Louis’ flat is homey. There are fairy lights hanging up and half a dozen plants scattered around the room. Three bins filled with vinyls are stacked against the window, and the record player sits on a table beside them. There’s no art hanging yet, but a few pieces are leaning against the walls. Harry thinks he recognizes something from a local artist, but he’s not totally sure. 

There’s a big, navy sectional and two matching oversized armchairs around a coffee table. It seems everyone has their places set already as Zayn sits sideways in one of the armchairs while Niall and Lily share the other, Lily with one leg crossed over Niall’s. Liam is on the longer piece of the sectional, leaned back with his eyes closed. 

Harry hears Niall on the phone ordering pizza as he takes a seat down towards the other end of the sectional. Lily offers him a beer from the cooler set up beside them and he takes it with a smile as Louis pulls out some colourful looking board game that he doesn’t recognize, kneeling on the opposite side of the coffee table in between the two chairs. Carefully, he sets up all the bits and bobs until everything is in its place, and starts explaining the rules. 

Harry listens while stealing glances at everyone around him, trying to gauge how familiar they are with it. Everyone is being very attentive, except for Zayn, who’s scrolling through something on his mobile. 

Of the lot of them, it seems like Louis is the most invested, and Harry can’t help but feel the spark of competition ignite inside of him. 

Turns out, it’s something none of them have ever played, which Harry finds works in his favour. 

The game starts off slow as they all get reminded of the rules and what does what in their first few rounds, but as soon as Harry understands what every move means, he feels enthralled, leaning forward until he’s on his knees, hovering over the table, moving the pieces for everyone else who’s a little farther away. 

Louis smirks at him throughout, wiggling his eyebrows every time he makes a move that has Harry recalculating his entire strategy, which happens more often than he’d like. 

They’ve been playing for forty minutes when the pizza arrives. The lot of them stand and make their way to the kitchen, leaving Harry dismayed at their lack of interest, especially when they’re so close to the end. Louis stays where he is though, both of them leaning over the table, making their moves, egging each other on, until Harry shouts his victory when he makes a clear win. 

Louis sits back on his bum, legs drawn up to his chest. He leans his cheek against one knee and smiles at Harry, eyes bright as Harry starts doing a victory dance from his spot on the floor. 

“Are you nutters done?” Niall calls from the kitchen. “Come get your slices.”

“ _He’s_ the nutter,” Louis responds, voice soft and sweet as they head towards the rest of them. “Throwing crazy shapes in my living room.”

Harry half-heartedly pushes at Louis’ shoulder. “Should’ve picked a game you could win at,” he says. 

“Oh, should I have?” Louis comes back in full force playfully pushing him as well, then sliding his palms down Harry’s abdomen. Harry laughs and hugs Louis to his chest easily, feeling the bubbles from his three beers floating through his body like they’re lifting him up.

“Whose turn was it to mind the children?” Lily asks the room.

“Not mine,” Liam and Zayn say at the same time. Then they roll their eyes at each other as everyone else laughs. 

They eat the pizza over the remnants of the board game. Louis keeps his spot on the floor, but grabs a cushion to sit on and leans back against Zayn’s chair. 

“So how do you two know each other then?” Zayn says with a mischievous glint in his eyes, waggling his eyebrows between Liam and Harry. 

Louis blinks at Liam before turning to Harry, waiting. 

“He scolded me for hiding from a date in the kitchen,” Harry says, taking another bite of his crust. 

“What?” Niall laughs.

“I’m assuming this is at the restaurant, not his flat, right?” Lily asks. 

Liam rolls his eyes, but the beer has made his hard exterior slip and reveal a big softy underneath, so subtly that Harry’s not sure Liam even realized it was happening. 

“I didn’t scold you,” Liam argues, taking another swig from his beer.

“You did,” Harry laughs, “but it was probably deserved. You didn’t know what I was doing. Didn’t know I was omega, either.”

Liam seems to go pink at that, obviously remembering how he assumed Harry had gone through the alpha descentifier. “I didn’t mean to offend you,” he says.

“You didn’t,” Harry assured him happily. 

Zayn snorts. “What does that all mean?”

Harry giggles, about to explain more, but Liam answers him first with “Why are you so nosy?” 

“Why are you so secretive?” Zayn taunts in return. 

“ _Lover’s quarrel,_ ” Niall whispers loudly to Louis, who then bursts out laughing. 

Lily turns to Harry then and says, “Harry, there’s something you should probably know.”

“No,” Zayn and Liam say in unison. 

Louis leans across the coffee table and stage-whispers, “Zayn and Liam are secret lovers.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, but the snarling effect is ruined by the hiccough that cuts it off. Liam groans and puts a hand on his face. 

Harry grins between them, helplessly lost but more than happy to be pulled into the joke… whatever the joke may be. 

“Star-crossed, even,” Lily says, “they both work crazy hours, can never see each other. Not even long enough to steal a kiss.”

Niall cackles, throwing his head back and everything. Harry giggles at it and holds his beer close to his chest. The bottle is getting warm now, but it’s still nice. 

“Okay, listen,” Liam says, sitting forward, not looking at anyone. “Louis saw Zayn leaving my flat, and this lot won’t let it go.”

Harry’s eyebrows go up and a laugh is startled out of him.

“They tried to hide it from us,” Lily says conspiratorially. 

“Caught Zayn _sneaking_ out of Liam’s flat the morning after. He was all blushes and stutters,” Louis says, leaning his head against his hand and swooning dramatically. “Proper romantic like.”

“Right gits, all of you,” Zayn says. 

“How long ago was this?” Harry asks, bolder with all the alcohol running through him. 

“Ages,” Zayn says. 

“ _A month ago_ ,” Niall says. 

“ _Ages_ ,” Zayn repeats with more emphasis. 

“You’re both single though, no?” Harry asks. 

Both Zayn and Liam look at him, unimpressed. Louis drops his hand and crosses his arms over the table, leaning forward some more, looking at Harry curiously. 

Harry blushes and stutters out, “I just— sorry, I just thought with your banter and everything… Might make a good couple?”

“No,” Liam says at the same time Zayn says, “You thought wrong.”

“How much longer are you going to harp on us about it?” Liam asks, to Louis specifically. 

Louis, Lily and Niall exchange looks, and seem to be debating with only their eyes before Louis turns back to answer. “Somewhere between one more week and the rest of forever.”

Liam shakes his head and stands up. “I’m going to need more beer then.” He stumbles a little and grabs onto Harry’s shoulder as he does. Harry does his best to help him straighten up with the hand that’s not cradling the bottle. “Sorry,” Liam says. Harry just shakes his head, still grinning. 

They sit around chatting for another hour. Harry sits, happy and tipsy, contributing when they pull him into the conversation, but otherwise content to listen to them all zip back and forth. 

It’s like a collective decision when it’s time to go home. Or maybe they all just notice Louis yawning more consistently now. 

He’s been the center of it all this evening, and Harry can see why. He’s loud in a warm, friendly way that makes everyone else want to be loud with him. He commands the room, but knows just when to ask a question, or look to someone for their input. It’s like he’s conducting the whole night, seamlessly gazing upon each of them at the perfect time. It’s almost magical, how everything falls together.

Harry’s the last to leave, since he’s only just across the hall and he wanted to help Louis clean up a bit more.

“They like you,” Louis says while Harry’s putting the last of the empty beer bottles in the recycling.

“They’re great fun,” Harry says. “Lily’s a riot, and it’s nice to see Niall outside of a conference room. I usually only talk to him about marketing data. He’s always been lovely, but he’s extra polite in those meetings, you know?”

“He’s great at keeping the professional, _professional_. You should see the lot we work with,” he says, eyes wide like he can’t believe it, “nearly tripping over themselves to try and be his friend.” 

“I bet,” Harry says. “I’d be the same.”

“Now you are! And you didn’t even have to try! Leon from Sales would be so jealous.” 

Harry giggles and looks at the bag full of recycling before grabbing it. Louis gives him a look he can’t quite read. “I need to take mine down tomorrow, anyway,” he explains.

Louis blinks at him and then looks away quickly. “So what about the other two?” he asks. 

Harry looks around at his feet. “Are there more bags?”

“No,” Louis says, laughing. “No, what did you think of Zayn and Liam?”

“Oh,” Harry says in understanding. “Yeah they’re great.”

“Mhm. Liam’s great, isn’t he,” he asks, looking at Harry carefully. 

Louis’ obviously worried that he didn’t see that since Liam was a bit surly at the beginning of the night, especially after Harry made that comment about alphas earlier. He’s quick to say, “Yeah, absolutely. Really funny and a gracious loser in board games. What more could you want in a person?” 

Louis’ got a glimmer in his eyes as he says, “Yes, exactly.” 

They stand there, just looking at each other for a few long seconds. Then Harry points a thumb over his shoulder and says, “I’ll get out of your hair then.”

Another yawn comes just after that, and they giggle together. 

“G’night,” Louis says, opening the door for him. 

“Night, Louis,” Harry says, walking across the floor in just his socks again. He laughs at that as he unlocks his door. As soon as he opens it, he remembers the jumper Louis took off a few hours ago. “Oh, hold on, your hoodie.”

There’s no reply, and when Harry looks over his shoulder, the door to Louis’ flat is closed. Ah, oh well. He’ll have to just remember to give it to him when he sees him next.

Harry hums and sighs as he closes the door. A good night. 


	4. Chapter 4

Two weeks pass by in a flash. Harry’s been busy with work, organizing a string of events and fundraisers for the planetarium, working longer hours than normal to get everything set up and then running the actual events. 

Since he’s been getting home so late, he’s not seen anyone, including Louis, which is a shame because he’s feeling like he could use that calming energy right about now. 

At the end of the stretch, he feels beyond drained, ready to spend the weekend curled up on his sofa doing absolutely nothing and gorging himself on so many new recipes after only eating frozen meals several days in a row. 

He’s staring into his refrigerator, wondering if making dinner is worth the effort tonight, when he hears a few soft knocks against his door. He isn’t shocked to see that it’s Louis, but he is surprised to find him looking sort of out of it.

“Hi Louis,” Harry says, hoping he doesn’t sound as tired as he feels. 

Louis looks at him with glassy, almost unseeing eyes, taking a breath as if to speak, but then he holds it for a beat instead, letting it out slowly and shutting his eyelids. His torso seems bulky, like he’s wearing several layers of clothing, underneath his grey t-shirt and black cardigan.

Something’s not right, clearly, but it’s tough to say what exactly it is, since Harry is dead tired and doesn’t actually know Louis all that well. If it’s not a pregnancy thing, his best bet would be touch deprivation, which he’s also close to feeling after two weeks of low-contact and stims.

“Come in,” Harry says, holding the door open for him. And he does, but instead of heading to the kitchen like he has the last few times, he just stands there, three steps into Harry’s flat. 

Harry closes the door behind him quickly and then carefully holds his arms out to guide him further inside. He’s careful not to touch him, since for some omegas, being in depri means touch is painful for a while, and he definitely doesn’t want to risk hurting him. “Come sit down,” he says, leading him over to the sofa. 

Louis sits, breathing in again with an open mouth, shoulders going up like he’s actually going to say something this time, but again...nothing. 

Squatting down beside him, he’s careful not to invade Louis’ space but is close enough to hear him breathing. He’s tired and unsure of what to do, but since food has been their connector so far, it seems reasonable to ask, “Lou, if I make you something, will you eat it?”

Louis doesn’t respond other than to close his eyes and settle further into the cushions. _He’s tired, too_ , Harry thinks. _Really, really tired._

Harry nods to himself and stands. “I’ll see what I have. Just…um, just rest.” 

He goes to the kitchen, rooting around in his refrigerator. Something easy. Something quick. Something that doesn’t take much effort. Soup takes too much concentration to eat because it’s hot and spills. Tacos have too many elements and are messy. Ice cream has too much sugar if he is in depri, which it feels like he is. And since it’s all Harry has to go off of...

He pulls out the milk and butter, then closes the door to set them down next to the stove. He reaches for the potatoes he left on the counter after his shop and sets himself up to peel. It’s a methodical process, one that Harry usually enjoys, but right now he’s anxious about it. He peeks into the living room every few minutes, but Louis is still slouched into the sofa with his eyes closed. It doesn’t seem like he’s sleeping but Harry can’t be totally sure. 

While the potatoes boil, he paces around the room and tries to think of something else in case Louis doesn’t want it. If he even likes mashed potatoes. 

_What if he doesn’t even like potatoes and that’s all I’ve given him!_

The refrigerator is opened again half a dozen times before the potatoes are done, and each time Harry’s gut tells him that he shouldn’t make anything else. This is what he would want in depri, and for some reason it feels like what Louis wants, too. 

He decides to leave some small chunks of potatoes in for the texture, then backtracks and smashes through the chunks, then changes his mind again and stops and just stares at the pot for a full minute before grabbing a large bowl and scooping some of the mash inside. 

Bowl in one hand, fork and spoon in the other, Harry tentatively makes his way to the living room quietly and squats down beside Louis again.

“Louis?” Harry asks. No response. Harry clears his throat. “Uh, Lou? I made you something to eat. It’s mashed potatoes.” 

Louis opens his eyes slowly and moves his head to the left and down to look at Harry. 

He clears his throat again. “It’s okay if you don’t like mashed potatoes, I can make you something else but I just… I’m not sure if you’ve eaten today and it… sort of feels like you’re in depri?” He doesn’t know why he phrases it as a question. “But this is usually what I want when I’m in it. So I thought… maybe, you know?”

Louis blinks at him and looks down at the bowl in his hands and then back up to Harry’s face. He nods, just a little bit and slowly reaches out for it. Harry hands it over eagerly, guiding it so Louis has it in his hands, resting the weight of it in his lap.

Harry holds up the utensils. “Fork or spoon?”

Louis looks at both of them and then reaches for the spoon. Harry hands it over readily and watches Louis push it down into the mash and pull it back up with a tiny mound. His eyes flicker up to Harry, who’s just staring at him. 

He stands and looks distinctly away. Shouldn’t look at people when they eat, probably rude. Even if it is killing him a little that he can’t make sure Louis is alright, that he likes it, that he won’t actually want something different.

“Maybe a film?” Harry asks, looking around for the remote. “I was… I was going to watch Pride and Prejudice. It’s always nice to see a strong, willful omega like Lizzie Bennet, isn’t it? And the setting is calming. Which I like, I’m not sure about you. But we don’t have to watch that if you don’t want to.”

He picks up the remote and slowly looks back at Louis, who’s still got the spoonful hovering in front of him, eyes on Harry. He finally puts it in his mouth and chews a little before swallowing, never breaking eye-contact. Then he nods.

“Pride and Prejudice?” Harry confirms.

Louis nods again. 

Harry nods, too, and gets to work putting it on. 

It starts with morning light and bird sounds and with Harry not knowing where the hell he should sit. Across the room, at the table feels too far, the other end of the sofa feels too far, but hell if right next to Louis also doesn’t feel too far. Ideally, he wants Louis in his lap where he can feel his pheromones better and watch him eat without actually watching him eat. 

Harry blinks at the screen. _What?_ God he’s more tired than he thought. 

“Will you…” Louis’ voice croaks out. His eyes widen when Harry looks at him. “Sorry,” he says quieter. “Will you sit next to me? I’m just feeling a little.” And then he shrugs a shoulder, like he’s not sure how to say it. Which is okay, since Harry’s never been good at putting his feelings into words, either. 

“Yeah, of course. Do you, um… the potatoes?”

Louis nods again. “Yeah, they’re delicious, thank you.” He gives Harry a gentle little smile and Harry tries not to blush. 

He ends up blushing anyway, for no good reason, as he sits down next to Louis, but he keeps a few inches of space between them so he doesn’t make Louis feel uncomfortable. 

Louis scoots over a little and closes some of the gap as he eats another spoonful. They both have their eyes on the screen but Harry’s not watching the film. He’s focusing so intensely on monitoring his own breath to make sure he doesn’t sound like he’s just run a mile, and trying to gauge whether Louis actually likes what Harry made him while also keeping his weird tired mind in check. 

After a few minutes, Louis says, “Harry I’m… I’m really sorry to ask. You’ve been so great…” He trails off when Harry immediately turns his head to look at him. 

“Whatever you need,” Harry says easily. 

Louis looks away and Harry can see a pink tink to his skin. “Could you put your arm around me? I’m sorry I just, I’m feeling a little vulnerable right now and… it would make me feel safe.”

“Yes,” Harry breaths out. And then he realizes and tries to correct himself. “Yes of course, if it’ll help.”

“It will,” Louis says earnestly, peeking up at Harry through his eyelashes, still blushing. “Thank you.”

Tentatively, Harry raises his arm and gingerly places it around the back of the sofa, and then gently places a hand on Louis’ left shoulder. That seems to be fine, for a minute, with Harry holding himself tensely in that position, careful to only be touching Louis in a very safe way. 

But then Louis shuffles around, stretches his neck and shoulders and pushes himself up to rearrange his legs until he’s pressed right up against Harry’s body. He seems more settled and he continues to eat his mash. He’s straining to look at him from the corner of his eye without moving his head, trying to see if Louis can tell how weird Harry feels without bringing attention to himself. 

They’re so close now. Louis smells so light and fresh. Like the park Harry used to go to when he was a kid, where he’d play on the swing for hours just to feel the wind in his face. Smells like laying in the grass on a spring morning, feeling the dew on his skin and the soft sunshine in his hair. He smells lovely and safe. 

Harry doesn’t know what to do with that.

“More mash?” he asks as soon as Louis’ scraped the bowl for the last little bit. It’s hovering just a breath away from his mouth, where he stopped short when Harry spoke.

“Um, yes, please,” Louis says. Harry stands up immediately and waits for Louis to take the bite and hand him the bowl. 

He’s quick about getting more, and this time gets some for himself, too, stifling a yawn as he does. 

They eat pressed close against each other and when they’re done, Harry puts the bowls on the coffee table and an arm back around Louis’ shoulders, pulling him close so there’s no space between them, and Louis doesn’t hesitate before snuggling in. They watch the film together in silence until on-screen Lizzie goes to visit her friend Charlotte and Mr. Collins.

“I’ve been working from home.” He pauses and fiddles with the hem of Harry’s shirt before pulling back and curling his hand into his own sweater. “I don’t like it. At all. It’s just me and I’ve been going a bit stir-crazy. Clearly. I didn’t realize until today, though.”

Harry rubs his arm and squeezes once, before rubbing again. “Can you go back into the office?”

“Probably, if I made a fuss.” He sighs, long and forlorn. “HR said it was probably best for me to work from home, for the baby, since there can be more complications with male omega pregnancies. I tried saying I feel fine and my doctor said everything looks good, but they were insistent. Pretty sure they just don’t want me around the office as I start to show. When one of my coworkers got pregnant last year, she switched to working from home almost immediately, so I think it’s a whole thing for my company.”

Harry feels offended for him. “Louis—”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs. “I could but I don’t know if it’s worth it. It’s nice, too. I get to sleep in, save on that commute time. And all the puking I’ve done recently has been in my own toilet, not in the ones where anyone could hear me. It was easier when I lived in the same building with Liam; if I felt a bit off, I’d just go to his flat. If he was out, I’d take a nap and basically wake up to cuddles. It was fantastic.”

Harry takes a moment to consider that. 

“Then why did you move?” he asks. 

Louis shrugs, curls further into Harry’s side. “It was a great flat, but I needed another bedroom for the nursery and there weren’t any two bedrooms available in that neighborhood in my price range. It’s nice here, though.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself, rather than explaining. “Safer neighborhood, actually, and an easy walk to the grocery store. And I’m still close to everyone, for the most part.”

“There’s a park a couple of blocks down, too,” Harry offers. He stifles another yawn and adds, “And the tube isn't too far.”

“Yes,” Louis says with emphasis. “And I’ve seen so many more dogs on this block.”

Harry laughs. “ _So_ many dogs, a very important indicator.” 

A comfortable silence falls as they tune back into the film. 

Louis yawns as says, “Did think about knocking on your door a few times, but the light never looked on. Figured you didn’t want company.”

“Oh,” Harry says, unable to stop his yawn this time. “Hectic at work, lots of late nights. Love having you ‘round.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks sleepily.

“Yeah,” he says, pulling Louis’ body close to him again before relaxing further into the sofa. He feels his eyelids get heavier. Somehow, his sheer force of will isn’t enough to keep him awake and he falls asleep before Lizzie and her aunt and uncle make it to Derbyshire. 

***

He wakes up feeling heat near-scorching on the left side of his body. He’s only half-laying down, sprawled along his sofa and he groans at the stiffness in his neck and shoulders as he tries to sit up. When he does, there’s a sound not made by him, and Harry is only half-surprised as he remembers that Louis came over last night, was in depri, and realizes they must have fallen asleep while watching the film.

He immediately stops moving, but the damage is already done. Louis huffs grumpily, shoving his face against Harry’s chest before pushing off from where he’s curled up against him. Rubbing his eyes, he looks around a little disoriented with a deep frown on his face. 

“Ugh,” he grunts out, voice sounding scratchy from sleep. Then he pulls off his cardigan in a way that gets it tangled and turned inside out. He whines.

Harry can’t help his laugh. Okay, Louis is clearly not a morning person. Noted. Harry stands and tries to stretch himself out as best he can as he makes his way to the kitchen. 

“Coffee?” he asks over his shoulder. 

Louis scrunches up his face and shakes his head. 

“Tea?” he tries again.

Louis scrunches up his face harder and nods. 

Harry slips into the kitchen and turns on the kettle, grabbing for his French press and pulling out both coffee grounds and tea bags. 

When both cups are made, he walks them to the sofa again to find Louis having stripped off two more layers and is blinking rather exaggeratedly down at his hands. 

“Okay?” Harry asks. 

Louis nods and then yawns and reaches for the cup Harry holds out for him. It’s still too hot to drink, so Louis holds it in his hands for a moment before putting it down on the coffee table.

“You’re a bloody furnace, Hazza,” Louis says, voice still scratchy. Harry smirks, too amused by Louis’ entire being at the moment to risk stopping it. “Never knew a person to get so hot.”

Harry sits down and takes a sip of his coffee. 

“Oh God, you’re judging me, aren’t you?” Louis asks then.

“Not judging,” Harry says, laughing. “It’s nice to see you like this, actually.”

“Like what?”

“Moody.”

Louis whines up at the ceiling again. “It’s this damn baby, takes all my energy, I’m a wreck most mornings now.” He hums, then sighs, placing both hands on his belly. “Sorry, little love. I didn’t mean it. Lucky to have you.”

Harry drinks his coffee and watches Louis try and wake himself up. He’s halfway through his own cup just as Louis picks up his mug again. 

“So, uh,” he says, taking a sip and wincing. Must still be too hot. “I didn’t mean to stay past my welcome.”

“You haven’t,” Harry assures him. 

“I sort of did. I come over here in the throws of depri, you cook for me _again_ and then proceed to let me fall asleep and drool all over you.”

“Hm. I quite like dogs,” Harry says. 

There’s a long pause where Louis stares at a point on the wall and then slowly turns his head to look at Harry. “What?”

Harry grins and shrugs. “Dogs drool and I quite like dogs, so no bother.”

Louis’ mouth drops open in a huff with the edge of laughter. “Did you just call me a _dog?_ ”

“You’re cuddly, need affection, full of drool. It all adds up.” Louis leans over and tries to smack him on the thigh, but Harry moves it out of the way just in time.

“I bite, too, you fucker, so be warned,” Louis says, laughing and shaking his head while falling back against the sofa. 

After a minute, Harry asks, “Breakfast?”

Immediately, Louis says, “Please.”

He stands. “What are you craving?”

Louis shrugs and stands too, both of them walking towards the kitchen.

“French toast? Pancakes? Eggs benedict? I can do pretty much anything.”

There’s a crinkle in Louis’ forehead as he says, “You’ve got stuff for all of that?”

Harry nods. “Yeah. I went shopping after work a couple of days ago. The 24-hour Sainsbury’s a few blocks from here was pretty much empty at 9pm, so I could actually do it in peace,” he says on a laugh. “Pure bliss.”

Louis hums. “Do you normally go at busy times?”

“Unfortunately. I’ve tried to go at off times, too, but there always seems to be loads of people whenever I try. And it’s the whole environment too. The rushing to get things in my tote bags and being in the way.” Harry shivers even thinking about it. “Necessary evil, I suppose.”

“I love a food shop,” Louis says thoughtfully. “Put my headphones in and block out the noise. Just go at my own pace.” Then he laughs. “I’m probably the type of shopper that makes you hate it, actually.”

Harry grins. “That’s just the way it goes, sometimes. What can you do?”

Louis’ looking at him. There’s curiosity behind his eyes that Harry feels like he should be self-conscious over but he doesn’t. It’s like he’s looking at Harry like that because he gets it, not because he doesn’t. Then he feels taken aback when he realizes it’s because Louis does seem to understand and, for whatever reason, that is an uncomfortable feeling.

Clearing his throat he grabs the French press and pours himself another cup as he says, “Right so, since I’ve got all this food, should we make a feast?”

Louis grins widely at him, upturning his mug to finish the last of his tea. “Let’s do it.”

They decided to make eggs every way they can, and rank them in order of best to worst. Louis leaves, glowing and complaining half-heartedly about how full he is (“For the first time in months, you’ve filled me up, Hazza.”). He gives Harry a meaningful squeeze on the forearm as he thanks him. Pride swells in his chest as he watches Louis head back to his flat. A better start to his weekend than he expected. 


	5. Chapter 5

He gets a text from Louis the following Wednesday. 

Louis (2:32pm): _dear hazza! you free for dinner tonight?_

Harry (2:40pm): _Yeah, sure. What are you craving?_

Louis (2:42pm): _hahaha sorry - i meant dinner out_

Louis (2:43pm): _you’ve cooked for me a lot already i want to treat this time_

Oh. Harry smiles down at his mobile and types out three different replies before settling on… 

Harry (2:48pm): _Okay - I should be home around 6:30pm if you want to head out then!_

Louis (2:50pm): _actually, could you meet us at smoke and spice around 6?_

 _Oh_. Dinner with Louis and his friends. Harry doesn’t know why he feels a heaviness in his chest at that. He shakes it off, whatever it is, because this is good. _Great,_ even; this means he’s being invited along as part of the group. When he focuses on that, he feels instantly lighter. Yes, that’s better. He doesn’t even know what that weirdness was. 

Harry (2:52pm): _Absolutely!_

He’s distracted for the rest of the day, looking up the menu for Smoke and Spice and seeing that it’s a semi-posh looking American barbecue place. The food looks good, and it’s been ages since he’s had barbecue, so he starts daydreaming about what he’s going to have. It’s 5:30pm before he packs his things up and heads on over. 

His mobile buzzes in his pocket when he’s a block away. 

Louis (5:57pm): _ah! i’m so sorry, I won’t be able to make it. whoever called it “morning sickness” didn’t know what they were on about_

Harry stops abruptly before hearing someone scoff at him and realizing he’s in the middle of the sidewalk. He steps to the side and gets ready to type something back when his mobile dings again. 

Louis (5:58pm): _liam should be there soon, though, and I’ve already called and given the server my card to pay for your meals. enjoy!!!_

Harry (6:00pm): _Feel better! Do you want me to bring you anything back?_

He pockets his mobile and tries not to get too anxious over being out with a group of Louis’ friends. Louis is their connector… what if they don’t all get on without him there? 

Harry heads into the restaurant and steps up to the podium and —after a brief pause— gives Louis’ name for the reservation. The hostess leads the way to the table. Which only has two place settings. 

“Sorry,” Harry says, “I think there’s going to be a few of us.”

“Oh,” she says, faltering. “You said Louis Tomlinson?” Harry nods. “I’m pretty sure it was just for two. I can go check again if you’d like?”

Harry scratches the back of his head. “Um, no, that’s okay. Thank you.”

He takes off his coat before he sits, looking over the menu without actually reading anything on there until Liam comes through, eyes widening in recognition as he waves and then narrowing as he looks around. 

“Hey Harry,” he says, smiling. “Where’s Louis?”

“He texted just a few minutes ago,” Harry says, “another bout of morning sickness.”

“Ah,” Liam says, nodding and finally pulling out the chair to sit down, shaking himself out of his scarf and coat. “So you _do_ know, then.”

His scent is fairly potent now, just like it was on game night. He must not have been working today. 

“Know what?” Harry asks, glancing up at him. 

“That Lou’s pregnant,” he says, opening up his own menu. “We weren’t sure the other night. Louis never said and we didn’t want to say in case you didn’t know.”

Harry nods. “He opened with that when we met, actually.”

Liam laughs, face bright and happy in a way that makes Harry automatically start to smile. “Sounds like him.”

They look over their menus for a bit before Harry decides to just ask, “What did the others say, then?”

“Hm?”

“About tonight.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Well,” Harry says, gesturing between them. But then he thinks back to the messages. Maybe Louis didn’t say it was all of them. Maybe he just inferred that. “I guess I thought it was going to be everyone. The whole group.”

“Oh,” Liam says. “No. Lou and I have a standing monthly dinner. We pick a new place that has great reviews and get like half a dozen things to share. He texted this morning and said he was inviting you along this time.” Then he looks off to the side in thought. “Bit weird he didn’t text me to say he was feeling ill though.”

He pulls out his mobile and scrolls through it for half a minute and Harry politely tries not to stare while also wondering why Louis invited him to his one-on-one dinner with Liam. 

Harry feels his mobile vibrate in his pocket and pulls it out to find a text message. 

Louis (6:16pm): _nah, thanks._

Louis (6:17pm): _but let me know if you have any leftovers. been wanting to try that place for ages!_

Harry (6:17pm): _Okay will do._

He puts his mobile away and finds Liam glancing over at him. 

“Louis,” he explains. “I’d just asked him if he wanted me to bring him anything back.” 

“Mm, what’d he say? We should let the server know when we order.”

“Oh, no he said just leftovers if I have them. Which makes sense, I suppose. Not sure if he put down a certain amount of money or just gave his card number, but might be a bit much to order a whole separate meal.”

“What d’you mean?” Liam asks. 

“When he texted earlier, he said this was on him. I’m just not sure how he did it.”

A look passes over Liam’s face, like he’s just solved a riddle. 

“You know what, Harry,” he says. “What do you think about ordering everything to go and bringing it to Lou’s? Maybe he’ll be feeling better by the time we get there.”

Liam’s already closing his menu and waving over a server. 

“Yeah, sure,” Harry says, closing his too. 

Liam orders four meats, six sides, and three portions of banana pudding. There’s a bite to his voice as he confirms that they should charge it to the card number Louis gave them. 

They make polite chit-chat on the tube. It turns out they don’t have much in common except for their love of cooking, so they talk about their favourite recipes for a bit until they get to Harry and Louis’ building. 

It’s almost 7pm when they knock on Louis’ door. He opens it and looks shocked to see them there. 

“Hi,” he says, looking between them, looking caught out for some reason. 

“Hi,” Harry says with a small smile. “Hope you’re feeling better. We—”

“We thought it would be better to come here and have dinner altogether,” Liam says, cutting him off. Harry’s a bit irked by that, but neither of them seem to be paying him any attention, staring at each other like they’re having a separate, silent conversation Harry’s not privy to. “You know, like the original plan.”

There’s a beat as Louis narrows his eyes slightly, but then he holds open the door for them both. Liam heads to the living room and starts pulling containers out of the bag while Louis heads to the kitchen to grab plates. Harry follows him, sticking his hands in his jacket pockets because he doesn’t know what to do with them otherwise. 

Louis’ chewing at the inside of his cheek when Harry tries to ask again, “Feeling better?”

“Hm? Sorry, yes. It was just a passing thing, I think. Nothing to be worried about.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.” 

Louis just nods and then smiles. It feels forced.

“Maybe I should leave and let you both have your dinner,” Harry says. 

“No Harry, please,” Liam calls out from the living room. “Got enough food for all of us, since Louis was kind enough to cover the bill.” 

The whole flat feels like that one time he called his primary teacher “mum”. Harry tries to ignore it as he goes to sit on one of the oversized chairs. 

“No, Harry, come sit next to me,” Liam says, and then he pats the cushion. 

“Um, okay.”

Harry sits with an arm’s length of space between them. Thankfully, Liam makes no move to slide closer, but he’s acting so strange it still seems likely, so Harry takes off his jacket and places it between them. He doesn’t know quite what’s going on here, but he knows it’s something.

Louis follows a moment later and passes each of them their plates before kneeling down to spoon some food onto his own. 

“The brown sauce is the spiciest one, I think,” Liam says. Louis nods and grabs that one to drizzle over some of his shredded pork. “Do you like spice, Harry?” he asks, turning his body towards Harry and scooping up some potatoes. 

“Yeah, I do,” Harry says. “More than I can actually handle, probably.”

Louis smiles kindly at him and passes him the container before backing up to sit in one of the armchairs. 

“Louis, too,” Liam says. “I’m not that keen on spicy food. But Harry and I were talking on the tube about the use of spice in different cuisines. I think we can both agree there’s a time and place for spice in everything.”

Harry nods and pours some of the sauce over the brisket. 

“Except desserts, I’d say.”

Harry stops and looks over at Liam, who’s eating calmly. 

“Well, I don’t think that’s true. Spicy works in some desserts, if you do it well.”

“Like what?” Liam asks. 

Harry blows a raspberry into the air. “Mexican hot chocolate? Spice goes really well with chocolate, in general.”

“Mexican hot chocolate is an exception, and even then it’s not _spicy,”_ he argues.

“It is if you make it right.”

Liam shrugs. “Maybe you’ll have to make some for us on the next game night, then. Change my mind.”

“You’re a chef you know, you could make some yourself.”

Liam laughs. “I don’t have time to make things for fun in my kitchen, Harry.”

Harry wants to argue some more, but he catches sight of Louis’ face, which looks a bit huffy, so he decides not to. 

“When is the next game night, then?”

Liam tells Harry they haven’t picked a date, but it’ll be here, at Louis’ again. Usually, they’d rotate flats, but this building is pretty much central to everyone and since Louis is pregnant it makes sense to not make him traipse around the city. Louis looks exasperatedly fond at Liam at that, and the atmosphere goes from awkward to more comfortable and friendly. 

They’re finished in an hour, and after they’ve finished cleaning up, Liam says he’s got to be going. He gives Louis a long, all-encompassing hug in the middle of the kitchen before patting Harry on the shoulder as he heads towards the door. 

“Hazza, could you stay for a minute,” Louis says as Harry goes to grab his jacket. 

He says sure, but Louis stays quiet until he locks the door behind Liam. Then he walks towards him, tugging at the sleeves of his shirt. 

“I’m sorry for that,” he says. 

“For what?”

“For trying to set you two up, I didn’t mean any harm by it, I swear. You just got along well at game night, and you mentioned you were single before, and so’s Liam, and I thought you might like that.”

Harry blinks at him, and then at the door where Liam just left. “That was a date?” he asks. 

Louis winces. “No. Sorry, I thought you knew. I thought that’s why… well, clearly Liam knew what I was trying to do and didn’t tell you. Trying to prove some point, I guess.”

Shaking his head, trying to figure out what this means, Harry asks, “It was supposed to be a date but Liam decided it wasn’t?”

Louis sighs and puts his hands over his face. “Ugh,” he moans, collapsing down into one of the chairs. “Right so, when we talked about how you’d broken up with that alpha… I wasn’t thinking of setting you up. At all. But then you and Liam had some laughs at game night, and I thought that meant you liked each other.”

Harry can’t help but laugh a little. “Um,” he says, as he tries to think of how to say he liked Liam as Louis’ friend, maybe even as his own friend, but he wasn’t someone Harry wanted to date, exactly. 

Louis waves a hand at him. “No, I know, I see that now. You both looked like how my sisters and I look at each other. That’s why Liam brought you both back here. I think he wanted to make me _see_ it. Not just hear about it from each of you after or whatever.”

Laughing, Harry sits back down on the sofa. “Well, that’s the first time I’ve ever been on a date and not known it.” 

“Don’t worry, you were only on the date for twenty minutes, tops,” Louis says, chuckling as well. “I have a feeling Liam shut it down pretty quickly. That and he actually charged dinner to my card.”

Harry tilts his head at him. 

“If he liked you and considered it a date, he would’ve paid,” Louis explains. He rolls his eyes and shrugs, snuggling further down in the chair. “Some weird alpha thing, I don’t know.”

“Mm, but since you paid, he was saying it’s not. I’ll try not to take that personally,” Harry says, laughing, half joking. 

Louis looks at him with a sympathetic, teasing smile. “You wouldn’t have liked it any better if he did think it was a date, c’mon. I saw you practically come up with a dissertation about spicy sweets in your head when he said it couldn’t be done.”

“It’s because he’s wrong,” Harry argues. 

Louis laughs. “Yeah, probably,” he says. “But Liam is more traditional that way. He likes trying new things, but only if everything else is the same. Like we’ll try a new restaurant, but only if it’s at our monthly dinners. He’ll try a different brand of clothing, but only from one of the shops he’s used to going to.”

Harry looks at the soft smile on Louis’ face, how comfortable he seems now, practically melted into the chair. Like this, Harry can just about see his slightly rounded belly. 

“You know him well, hm?”

“Very well,” Louis says. “We’ve been friends for so long now, I’m not sure how much of me I stole from him and how much was just me to begin with.”

“Did you… I mean is he…” Harry’s cheeks heat up at realizing what he was about to ask. “Nevermind.”

“No, go on,” Louis says, nodding encouragingly.

“No, sorry, it’s intrusive.”

“I don’t mind, honestly.” Louis shrugs. “I’m trying to be better about talking about stuff. Trying to become a good example for little love.” He rubs his belly affectionately. “But obviously you don’t have to.”

Harry looks at his hands and says, “Suppose I was just wondering if Liam was… um, the father?”

There’s a beat of silence for one excruciating moment before a burst of giggles. Harry looks up to see Louis’ hands covering his mouth, trying to reign it in. Harry feels his cheeks redden further. 

“Sorry, no, sorry I’m not laughing at you, I swear,” he says between laughs. “No, absolutely he’s not. No. We tried snogging once when I was in uni, because I was on the edge of depri and read that kissing an alpha helps pull you out of it faster. Something about the direct transfer of hormones or whatever, I think. Anyway, we lasted about three seconds before both of us decided that it was the worst thing ever.” He laughs some more. “He’s a good sport and a great friend, but the thought of him trying to put it on me makes me want to gag.” 

“Guess he’ll have to go back to Zayn,” Harry says, an attempt to joke his way out of the awkward feelings. And it shouldn’t work, because Harry’s not even _in_ on the inside joke of it, but it does. Louis laughs and laughs, looking happy and full of life. And he can’t let his embarrassment overtake him when faced with that, now, can he?

“Go ahead,” Louis says after a minute, looking at Harry kindly. “You can ask.” 

Harry cocks his head to the side, unsure of what he means.

“The real question,” Louis says, laughing still. _“Who is the father, then?”_

Harry bites his lip, feels himself flushing with embarrassment. “Oh,” he says. “You don’t… obviously you don’t have to talk about it.” 

Louis nods, looking down at his belly, rubbing a hand gently over it. He looks back up at Harry and says, “He was a friend.”

It’s quiet between them for long enough that Harry assumes that’s all Louis wants to share. And he’s okay with that, obviously. He’s clearly not in Louis’ life now, so it’s not something Harry has to worry about. Even if he _were_ , actually, it’s not something Harry should be thinking about. He clears his throat, about to ask if he wants a cup of tea or some water when Louis speaks again. 

“We’d fool around every once in a while. Nothing serious but... sometimes you’ve just got an itch, you know what I mean?” He lets out a tiny self-deprecating laugh.

Harry hums, and tries not to sound so unsure about it. 

“Not to get too graphic but, the condom broke, and since it’s less likely for male omegas to get pregnant anyway, we confirmed we were clean and then just sort of forgot about it. A few weeks later, I started feeling ill, went to the doctor and bam! She tells me I’m pregnant.”

It’s quiet as Louis pauses, the sound of wind howling outside briefly before it settles, like it’s waiting for him to continue. 

“When I told him about little love, he freaked out. Which,” Louis shrugs, “I get. I was freaked out, too. But as soon as he freaked out, I got really zen about the whole thing. It was like everything was suddenly clear. I was going to be alone in this, and that made it so much easier.” 

Harry must have a look on his face because Louis shakes his head. 

“No, no I know. Not easier. Being a single parent is hard, I know that. I watched my mum do it for so long, how she struggled with it, even with as much help from my grandparents as they could manage. I just meant that I wouldn’t have to try and figure out how someone else fit into the picture. That whatever I wanted for my baby I could do because there was no one else to fight with over finding out the sex or epidurals or what I should be eating or whatever else. It’s just me, doing what’s best for us.” 

He’s got both hands on his belly now, caressing so softly and with so much love Harry can practically taste it. 

“He’s not a bad guy, really,” Louis says. “A couple of weeks later, he even called me up and talked about, um, _helping_ me through the pregnancy,” he laughs a little awkwardly. “The lads were even less thrilled about that than I was when I told them. I said no, anyway, because _that_ would only lead to some trouble.”

Harry’s trying to read between the lines on that, figure out what _helping_ means in that tone, when Louis continues.

“He also mentioned maybe stopping by for little love on holidays or whatever. I definitely had to put my foot down on that though,” Louis says sternly to the wall behind Harry’s head, “because I won’t have someone in my baby’s life thinking he can just pop in and out as he pleases on his schedule.”

Louis stops his caressing and just holds both of his hands against his little bump. “That’s not how this works,” he says quietly. “I can’t have him thinking it’s okay to see little love twice a year and that’s enough. Because it’s not. My baby is not a passing star in the sky, they’re the whole damn galaxy.”

Harry feels himself welling up, something fierce and protective swelling in his chest. He swallows down his tears, doesn’t want to turn this into something Louis feels like he needs to comfort Harry over. 

“You’re brave,” he says when he can manage it. Louis shakes his head, looks like he’s about to brush it off, so Harry rushes to continue. “No, you are. Brave to fight for your baby like that and brave to fight for yourself like that.”

Louis shrugs, like it’s nothing. “It’s what you do for love,” he says simply, like it doesn’t sound monumental to Harry’s ears. 

He lets it go, this time, because he doesn’t think he can tell Louis exactly what he means right now with the words he’s got in him, so he just smiles at him and at his belly, hoping he can feel it anyway. 


	6. Chapter 6

It’s Friday night, Christmas Eve and Louis’ birthday, and they’re dancing in the kitchen to some wildly upbeat techno song before everyone else arrives. 

Thankfully, Louis' morning sickness had subsided, but now instead he has been tired — near exhausted all the time.

It started one night the previous week when Harry came home from work and didn’t even have time to get his keys in the door before Louis burst into the hallway, pulling Harry inside his flat eagerly to show him his sonogram photo. 

“That’s my baby,” he’d said, on the verge of tears. “They’re healthy and the doctor said everything looks great and I could’ve found out the sex but I don’t know I just panicked and said I wanted to wait. Is that wrong, do you think? Should I have found out?”

“I don’t think there’s a wrong choice there,” Harry reassured him. 

Louis grinned and gazed down at the blurry black and white and beige picture again. He touched the edges of it softly and a tear rolled down his cheek. 

Once his excitement had settled, he passed out in an armchair while Harry made them mac and cheese and was only able to stay awake long enough to finish half of it. From then on, he’s been falling asleep no matter what time of day it is or what they’re doing. The most impressive by far was when Harry was showing him some prenatal yoga moves he’d looked up —to help ease Braxton Hicks contractions, whenever they come— and Louis started drifting while in downward dog, with his head upside down. 

So they were in Louis’ kitchen making a stir fry —since that’s what Louis had been craving that day— and he was washing some of the veg, eyes heavy. Harry had looked over and smiled as Louis' eyes closed completely, and then jolted himself awake. 

“Should we reschedule?” Harry asked gently. 

“What?” Louis said. “Of course not. It’s my birthday. My _30th_ birthday. And the last game night of the year.” But then he betrayed himself by yawning. He hung his head over the sink and cursed. “When will this tiredness end,” he whined. 

Harry stopped chopping the onions and reached into his pocket to grab his mobile. Once he found what he was looking for, music blasted through the speaker of it. Louis turned to look at him curiously. 

“That’s not your typical sound,” Louis noted. 

“It’s my running playlist,” he’d said. “C’mon, let’s dance.” 

“Dance?” Louis asked, sputtering a laugh. He placed a hand on his belly, finally big and round enough to be noticeable. “I’m almost five months pregnant and you want me to dance.”

“Yes,” Harry said simply, reaching out for a hand, which Louis’d given begrudgingly. 

He complained for half a minute, letting Harry move his arms while rolling his eyes, but then Harry twirled him around and he laughed and let go. 

So they’re shimmying and shaking, Harry throwing his arms up in the air while Louis does _the shopping cart,_ which leaves Harry doubled over, in stitches. 

The song fades out and switches to something with a heavy base and a solid beat. Louis loses it, yelling out a laugh and bouncing on his feet lightly. 

“I used to _love_ when this came on in the club,” he says, reaching for Harry and twirling him this time. “God, I’m going to miss going to the club so much.”

“You can still go,” Harry offers. 

Louis levels him with an unimpressed look. “Oh yeah, let me stroll in there with my giant maternity mumu sweater and order club sodas until I fall asleep at the bar at 9pm.”

“Not now, idiot,” Harry says affectionately. “After.”

Louis snorts. “Yeah, I’m going to leave my baby home to go grind up against some sweaty bodies until 3am, very responsible of me.” 

Harry rolls his eyes and does some jazz hands to the beat that makes Louis cackle. “You’re being difficult on purpose,” he says. “I just mean you can go after you have the baby, it’s not like you can never do fun things again.”

“Didn’t say I couldn’t.”

“Yeah, but that’s what you meant.”

Louis doesn’t say anything to that, just shrugs a little, which Harry knows means he’s right. 

“I’ll be a parent though,” he says, “and parents can’t grind, and you have to grind in a club. It’s practically law.”

“Who says parents can’t grind?” Harry laughs. “Plus, I’ve never grinded with anyone, so there’s proof you don’t need to grind at a club.”

“Who could get close enough to try with those arms flailing everywhere,” Louis exclaims. Harry does some swishy movement out in front of him to demonstrate. “Here,” he says then, grabbing hold of one of them. He turns himself around so his back is to Harry’s chest and presses close, wrapping the arm he’s holding around him and placing the palm right against his belly. Then he grabs the other one and places the other hand on his hip. 

“What’re you doing?” Harry asks, laughing on an exhale. 

“We’re grinding,” Louis says, rolling his hips back into Harry. “You’re twenty-seven, Hazza, you need to understand that grinding is the _only_ point of going to a club and why I’ll never be able to do it again.”

Harry feels Louis’ bum press and rub against him, rolling like waves across his hips and onto his groin. He looks down in front to see his hand on Louis’ pregnant belly, and he feels guilty all of a sudden, like he shouldn’t be doing this, but he can’t pinpoint why exactly. 

Louis reaches backwards and holds Harry’s hips, pulling them towards him and rolling them in the same direction. There’s definitely more pressure now and he figures out why it feels wrong as Louis tips his head back against Harry’s shoulder, looking at him and giggling. It feels _good_. Specifically, it feels good in the exact area of where Louis’ bum is pressing back into his dick and things start to _stir._ He feels his cheeks heat up but he doesn’t think about pulling away; actually does the opposite and grinds forward into him. 

Thankfully there’s a buzz, someone ringing the bell at the front door, and Louis lets out a surprised gasp. 

He turns around in Harry's arms, which twists his shirt a little, and Harry feels the warm skin of his lower belly. 

“I can’t believe that worked,” Louis says, a little breathless. 

“What?”

“The dancing helped! I’m not feeling tired any more.” Louis kisses him on the cheek and walks towards his front door. “You’re the best, Hazza.”

Harry nods dumbly after him and shakes his head. He’s glad it worked before he got an awkward erection against his best friend’s backside. That would have been embarrassing to explain. 

He turns back around, lowering the volume so the music isn’t so loud, before going back to the cutting board and continuing to chop. 

“Harry! My love!” Lily says, coming up behind him and planting a kiss on his cheek in the same exact spot Louis did just a few seconds earlier. 

“Hiya,” he says to her. 

She moves away and Niall comes up behind him in her place and does the same. 

“Harry, my love,” he says, too, with a giant grin on his face. 

He grins back and sends a _muah_ sound his way.

“Alright, alright,” Louis says, “knock it off you two.” 

Niall pulls Louis backwards into him, throwing his arms around his shoulders and placing a kiss on his cheek as well. “Lou, my love,” he says, “no need to be jealous, there’s plenty of love to go around.” 

“Think he was jealous of the love going in a certain direction,” Lily says. Harry looks over his shoulder to see Louis reaching out to try and pinch her, but Niall holds him back pretty well, laughing. He also notices the way Louis’ hips wiggling back into Niall in retaliation.

“Louis, my _love_ ,” Niall says, sounding scandalized. “Stop trying to turn me on, my fiance is _right there._ ”

Lily just laughs when Louis reaches back to smack the side of Niall’s head. She comes over to Harry and asks, “Anything I can help with?”

“Don’t think so. Just need to finish cutting the peppers, then it’s pretty much just tossing it all in. Rice is nearly done in the rice cooker. Magical, that thing.”

“We got him that!” Niall says excitedly, trying to pin down Louis’ arms to stop him from smacking him again. 

“Think Hazza has used it more times than I have,” Louis says, giving up and relaxing back into Niall instead. 

“At least someone is,” Lily says. And then to Harry, “Don’t know what he’d do without you cooking all his meals for him now.”

“Eating boxes and boxes of cereal, probably,” Harry says. 

He sends a smile over his shoulder at Louis, wiggling his eyebrows and waiting for Louis’ snappy comeback, but instead, Louis’ just looking back like he doesn’t mind the teasing. 

Harry shrugs smugly and gets the wok ready to throw all the ingredients into. There’s another buzz of the door and Lily pats Harry on the back before turning around to go answer it. 

“You’ve learned how to lock the door,” Zayn calls from the hall. “Liam will be chuffed.”

“Bet you will be too,” Louis says, “so you can cut that conversation out of your pillow talk.”

Zayn walks in and makes a rude noise which causes Louis to giggle. 

“Look at you!” Zayn says. Harry looks over his shoulder to see Zayn beaming at Louis, hands gesturing around his belly.

“I know,” Louis says, “I’m glowing.” He gestures a hair flip even though his hair isn’t long enough to throw over his shoulder. 

“You are,” Zayn says sincerely, and then opens his arms wider for a hug. “Happy Birthday, Lou.”

“Thank you, Z.” He caresses the back of Zayn’s hair softly, and nudges the tote bag in his hand with his knee. “Now, what did you bring me?”

“Tortilla chips and that disgusting jarred queso.”

Louis gasps, delighted. “You love me!”

“I love you,” Zayn agrees. 

Louis reaches for the bag and starts to remove the contents. “ _And_ Tootsie Rolls? Oh my god are you _in_ love with me?”

“It’s a big birthday, you twat, I’m trying to do something nice.”

Louis ignores him and opens up the packet. They’re mini and individually wrapped, so he takes the paper off of one and pops it in his mouth, moaning in delight as he chews. He turns to Harry then, who’s watching as he stirs in the carrots and broccoli. 

“Hazza, have you had these?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Here,” he says, and he opens another one, holding it up to Harry’s mouth. He takes it between his teeth and chews. It’s chocolatey and has a vague taffy texture. He hums and nods his approval. 

“Have you suddenly learned how to share, Tommo?” Niall asks. 

“With people who cook for me, yes,” he answers immediately. “You lot have cooked nothing for me, so don’t even think about it.”

Louis squeezes Harry’s bicep, kisses his shoulder and then rolls up the bag to put it away. There’s a beat of silence that feels off for this group, but before Harry can look at them all and see what’s got them so quiet, there’s another buzz of the bell. 

“I’ll get it,” Louis says. “I want to see Liam’s dumb face when he realizes I’ve locked him out.” 

Louis walks out of the kitchen, and it’s still strangely quiet before Niall says, “So, Harry, how’ve you been?”

“Yeah, good,” Harry says. “It’s been busy at work, but I get some time off for the holiday now, which is nice.”

“That’s great,” Lily says. “You visiting anyone or going anywhere?”

“I’m renting a car and driving up to see my mum and sister tomorrow morning and I’ll stay there for a week or so.”

“You’re up by Manchester, right?” Niall asks. 

He nods. “Cheshire.” 

He hums. “Long drive for Christmas morning.”

“I was supposed to head out a couple of days ago, but I couldn’t miss Louis’ birthday,” he says, smiling over his shoulder. Niall smiles at him more _politely_ than he ever has, even in work meetings, and it makes him second guess himself. “Um, what are your plans?”

Lily says, “We’re doing Christmas dinner at ours tomorrow. My family’s coming up from South London for a few days, a little treat for my mum so she doesn’t have to host like she usually does.”

“Oh that’s great!” Harry says. “Must be the year for it, I know Louis’ mum and the lot are coming down here for a week, as well.”

“He sounds excited about it,” Lily says. There’s something off in her voice as well. Another pause. Harry pretends not to feel it as he adds the peppers to the stir fry. 

Harry clears his throat and says, “How about you, Zayn?”

“Doing a tropical holiday in Majorca this year. I’ll meet my family there in a few days.” 

“Very cool.”

And luckily, Liam and Louis join them before Harry overthinks himself to death about why things are so weird right now. 

“Look who I found stranded outside!” Louis says. “Unable to get in no matter how hard he tried the handle!”

Liam rolls his eyes but smiles and throws an arm around Louis’ shoulders. “Yeah, yeah, you locked it this time, I got it.”

“Not just this time, _every_ time.”

“I’m very proud of you.”

“Good.” Louis looks around at all of them and then breathes out a laugh. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Lily is quick to say, sounding chipper. “We were just talking about the holidays and everyone’s plans. Harry was saying he’s driving back home tomorrow morning.” 

“He’s leaving me, can you believe it?” Louis says, half laughing, half whining. “Don’t know how I’m going to survive on me own.” He looks at Harry and shoots him a wink. 

Again, there’s a weird pause, and Harry watches Louis catch it, so he feels a bit better that he’s not alone in this. 

“Right, well, should we decide on a game?” Louis asks. 

“Whatever you want, Lou, it’s your birthday,” Liam says.

“Thank you, Leem, you’re no help at all.”

Liam makes a disgruntled sound as he moves around him and heads into the living room. The others do the same, except for Louis who walks over Harry, leaning his chin on Harry’s shoulder. 

Harry smirks and says, “Yeeesss?”

“Have I told you you’re the best lately?”

“You have.”

"The truest best.”

“Mhm.”

“Like, the absolute _best_ of the best.”

He laughs. “What do you want?”

He hears Louis smile, and when he doesn’t say anything, turns slightly to look at him. “Nachos?” he says, pleading look in his eyes.

“You don’t want the stir fry?” he asks, stopping his stirring for a moment. 

Louis smiles wider, forcing it hard, probably trying to look cute enough that Harry’s unable to say no to him. It’s not a stretch. 

Harry sighs and shakes his head. “Chicken or beef?”

“Whichever,” Louis says, shrugging. 

Harry looks at him pointedly. 

“Beef, please.”

“Alright. Go on, I think I can put them together quickly. Hopefully before another one of your cravings hits and you change your mind.”

Louis smacks a kiss on Harry’s cheek and walks away happily, which is all Harry can ask for, really. He smiles as he pulls out one of Louis’ baking sheets and gets to work. 

He calls them all in to grab dinner about twenty minutes later. Louis fills his plate mostly with nachos, but does grab a little mound of rice and stir fry, and Harry’s almost positive it’s to make him happy. Which it does, despite not quite knowing why. 

They eat around the coffee table again in almost the exact same seats as last time, except now Louis is in the middle on the sofa, leaning his head and upper body against Liam while tucking his freezing cold feet under Harry’s thigh, grinning at him all the while because he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

After, they set up the board game and a spot for Louis with lots of pillows and blankets laid out to give him more comfort and support on the floor. Zayn sits beside him and Louis leans on his shoulder almost the entire time they play. 

Again, it’s something Harry’s never played before but he listens carefully when Louis reads out the rules, and then reads them silently to himself again when everyone gets their drink refills. Harry is worried for a moment that he’s supposed to let Louis win because it’s his birthday, which strictly goes against his competitive spirit, but is pleased to find everyone seems more in it than last time. Unfortunately, that means he shouldn’t be surprised when Lily ends up winning. He lets himself be miffed for a moment, but it’s hard to continue when Louis gets so much joy out of Harry being a sore loser, laughing and teasing him until Harry almost forgets that he didn’t win, the way Louis is smiling at him. 

Niall and Lily do the dishes and put the food away as Louis and Zayn clean up the board game, which gives Harry and Liam enough cover to sneak over to Harry’s flat where they stored the birthday gift they all pitched in and got. 

Louis’ mouth drops open as they carry it in towards the living room. It’s wrapped in fun pastel-coloured wrapping paper with a bow as big as his head on the top. 

When he opens it, he cries and goes around to hug them for a full minute each. At Harry’s turn, Louis hiccoughs in his ear and nuzzles into his neck, squeezing onto him tightly and whispering a soft little _thank you_ that has him feeling close to tears himself. 

Everyone says goodbye shortly after that. Louis hugs them all again for a long time, saying thank you and Happy Christmas and love you as they leave until it’s just Harry left.

Louis sighs as he closes the door behind Zayn and turns around, grinning at him. “Best birthday, ever,” he says. He goes over to his present, the new state-of-the-art cot that will eventually turn into the baby’s first bed. He touches the box and smiles. 

“Please don’t start crying again,” Harry says, teasing. 

“No, I won’t,” Louis says quietly. “It’s just so nice of you all. This is the first thing someone else has bought for me and little love and I— okay maybe I will start crying again.” Louis shakes himself out of it and sighs. “You should head home, get some sleep before your drive tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I should,” Harry says, nodding. Then he looks at the box and says, “Do you want to set it up?”

“Now?” Louis asks. Harry just shrugs, as if to say _I’m game if you are._

So it’s past midnight now inside the nursery, and they’re sitting perpendicularly to each other against two walls; Louis has the instruction manual on the floor to his right and the plate of chips that Harry made him as a snack in his lap. Harry’s fiddling with a screwdriver, and all the parts are laid out before them, but nothing has been put together. 

“So then,” Louis says, eating another chip quickly, “I shoved him in my closet just in time so that my mum didn’t see him. Sat at my desk, pretending to revise. Pulled a calculator out and everything.”

“Did you get away with it?” Harry asks. 

Louis half grimaces and says, “Unfortunately she spotted one of his trainers behind the door as she was leaving, and the jig was up quickly from there. I was grounded for the rest of the year. There I was, eighteen, could finally go out drinking with my friends, and I wasn’t allowed because of my own horniness.” Louis sighs. “I guess that’s what I get for trying to hookup with the lead in the school play. He was a shit kisser anyhow.”

Harry laughs. “S’awkward then anyway. Better that you didn’t.”

“You’re right,” he says. “Because over that summer, before I left for uni, I went over and hooked up with his older sister. No one thought anything of us sneaking off to her room because she was a beta.”

“Oh, really?” Harry asks. He’s trying to process all of that. _Sister_ and _beta_. 

Louis nods, looking proud. “Oh yeah. I guess she’d hooked up with this omega lad living in her dorm before she came back home. She was so excited when I got wet. Was really hot.”

“Huh,” Harry says. He puts down the screwdriver he’s still holding. 

Louis grins at him. “What, did you think I was only into guys?”

Harry clicks his tongue and tries to find a diplomatic way of saying _yes._

He seems to get it, anyway, and doesn’t seem offended if the way he tips his head back and laughs is any indication. 

“Sorry,” Harry says. And he debates for a moment on whether he wants to say this or not, if this will make Louis feel uncomfortable or make things weird. Louis’ looking at him kindly, and Harry decides to just go for it. “I guess it’s just also… I’m just always used to the traditional matches. You know, alpha and omega.” 

“What about Niall and Lily?” Louis asks, like a gentle reminder. 

“Yeah,” Harry concedes half-heartedly.

Louis hums. “But _he’s_ not the omega,” he guesses. 

Harry feels his cheeks flame bright red. He feels unbearably awkward. 

“Hazza, I promise, I’m not judging you or trying to make you feel bad,” Louis says. “I think it’s normal to not be sure if you’re not used to seeing different couples.”

“Ugh,” Harry grunts. “I feel so dumb.”

“Shh,” Louis says, he reaches out and rubs a palm along Harry’s calf. “It's just me. We’re just chatting.”

Harry nods and sighs. “Doesn’t stop me from feeling it.”

Louis nods. “Alphas are great,” he says, “I am pro alpha and omega, for sure. It’s how I got myself into this situation.” He nods at his belly, the scattered cot pieces in front of them, and the room at large. “But I’ve never been all that fussed.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asks. 

Louis shrugs and pops another chip into his mouth. “Like I don’t really care what’s happening biologically with someone if we click.”

Harry tries not to look as confused as he feels, but Louis laughs, letting him know he’s failed. 

Louis chews as he thinks. He holds up one of his chips as he says, “It’s like potatoes, yeah?” He laughs again at whatever’s happening on Harry’s face. “Shh,” he says, “just go with it.”

Harry shakes his head, but gestures for him to continue. 

“There’s loads of different kinds of potatoes — different sizes, different shapes, different flavours. And _then_ there’s so many different preparations — fried, baked, mashed, and so on.”

Harry nods, to show that he’s following. 

“So someone might love sweet potatoes, but not any other potato. Or maybe the type of potato doesn’t matter, but they hate the texture of baked potatoes. And that’s what they like and there’s nothing wrong with any combination. I like all potatoes, anyway they’re made. Each one brings something different to the table, so it’s not like I don’t notice or _care_ about what those differences are, I just don’t mind them.”

Harry bites his lip and thinks about that. Louis tilts his head to the side and watches Harry process, but doesn’t say anything. 

He thinks about growing up, at the films he watched and what his friends would talk about during lunch at school and his own family dynamics.

“What if,” Harry starts and then stops. He doesn’t look at him, but Louis’ presence is comforting as he tries to sort through his head. He thinks about how alpha and omega always seemed like the default and wonders why he hasn’t noticed that’s the way he thought of it before. “What if you like potatoes… but don't like eating them. Wait, no,” he says, shaking his head. Then he groans at himself and puts his head in his hands. 

He hears movement and then feels it as Louis wraps an arm around him and rubs soothingly around his shoulder. 

Harry pulls his hands away from his face, just a bit, and says the words to them. “It’s like you think you like potatoes. Specifically mashed potatoes, because that’s what your friends like and that’s what you grew up thinking you should like…” 

He’s only had sex with two people in his life — both of whom he was in relationships with and both because that’s what he thought he was supposed to do. That’s what all of his friends talked about, having sex with their alpha boyfriends, getting so excited and turned on and ready to go. 

Harry was never that excited. He liked it well enough, but not more than when he got off on his own. Not more than the pretend _Alpha_ in his head that helped get himself there. 

“And you do like them, yeah?” he continues. “But never as much as anyone else seemed to. And you’ve done it in the past, and it was fine, but it always felt like you were missing something because of how much your friends talked about how much they _loved_ it. Um, _them._ Mashed potatoes.” 

He continues to stare at his hands, unsure of what he’s even trying to say. 

“What if you didn’t know you _could_ want other potatoes. Or what if you _don’t_ want any potatoes? What if you’re _broken_ and don’t like _any_ potatoes and you spend the rest of your life _alone_?”

Harry feels how wide his eyes have gotten now and thinks about how red his cheeks must be. He buries his face in his hands again to stop the overwhelmingness of it. 

Louis continues to rub over his arm and back in small circles. He can almost hear Louis processing it in the silence around them. 

“You’re not broken if you don’t like potatoes,” he says softly. “There are plenty of people who don’t like potatoes. _Niall_ doesn’t like potatoes.”

Harry lifts his head to look at Louis. “What? But he’s with Lily?”

Louis laughs, but not unkindly. “You don’t explicitly need to like potatoes to be with someone.”

Harry furrows his brows deeply at that, and it feels like his whole world has been flipped on its side. 

“He’s pretty open about it, so I don’t think he’d mind me telling you.” Louis adjusts his position on the floor so he’s more turned towards Harry. He makes sure to keep a hand on his back, and Harry’s grateful for it. “Niall tried to like different kinds of potatoes all sorts of ways because he thought there had to be a potato he liked, he just hadn’t found it yet. Eventually he figured out he didn’t like to eat potatoes, but, um, he liked to… pick out toppings and seasonings and… just talk with them and… okay this metaphor might not totally work.”

Harry can’t help but laugh at that. 

“Point being,” Louis continues, “he found someone who didn’t need that thing that he thought everyone would need. Lily’s not with Niall for the potatoes, she doesn’t need that. Some people need to be able to have potatoes with their person but others don’t. So it’s most important that you know what potatoes you like or don’t like, because it’s not worth it if you’re eating something that doesn’t make you happy.”

 _Do you need it?_ Harry wants to ask, but he bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself. Doesn’t even know where that question came from, if he’s honest. It’s none of Harry’s business what Louis wants in that way. 

“So r’you saying you’ve had all the potatoes?” he asks instead.

Louis laughs, “Oh, honey, no, there’re too many kinds out there for me to have tried them all. Truth be told, it’s been mostly uh,” he touches his belly and laughs, “ _Mashed potatoes_ because that’s who’s wanted me back, in my experience. But I _can_ tell you that I once had a bit of potato crisp casserole when I was on holidays in the States.” 

He sends him a cheeky wink and reaches for another chip, obviously leaving Harry to figure that one out for himself. He keeps rubbing Harry’s back and lets him process a little more, until they finally agree it’s time to pack it in. They’ll build the cot another day.

“Goodnight, Louis,” Harry says when they reach the front door of Louis’ flat. “Thanks for letting me have a crisis on your nursery floor.”

Louis keeps shining that soft smile at him, even as he yawns. “Thanks for cooking my birthday dinner and scattering my birthday present around.” 

“Happy Birthday,” Harry says, reaching out and grabbing his hand.

“Happy Christmas,” Louis says back, giving it a squeeze. 

They stand together with their arms stretched out over the threshold for another few seconds before Louis’ pulls back and lets go. 


	7. Chapter 7

January brings especially cold weather, a heavy dose of introspection, and final understanding for Harry. The understanding being he has no idea who he is anymore and that’s just the way things are. 

He thinks about potatoes a lot, in between forcing himself not to think about them at all. When he runs to Sainsbury’s for a food shop, he spends many extra minutes standing in front of them in the produce section only to not buy any at all. They still end up in Louis’ kitchen anyway, along with several jars of pickles and random sweets, which Harry can only laugh about. 

He’s wanking more than he ever has, trying to picture different kinds of people instead of just faceless _Alpha._ He tries people from his favourite films and strangers he’s seen on the tube and —for an extremely weird moment— even pictures Candace in his bed. He can’t focus on any of them long enough to actually get anywhere, and ends up frustrated and slightly sore from how often he’s pulling one off. 

Once or twice, he thinks about bringing it up with Louis again, but it never seems to be the right time. Louis doesn’t bring it up again either, and so he’s just left with a pit in his stomach and more confusion than ever. 

***

The week leading up to Harry's birthday is full of gifts, mostly from Louis, who either brings them over to Harry’s flat when he hears him come home in the evening or has it wrapped and waiting for him on his own kitchen counter. A pretty shirt with ruffles, the lip balm Louis knows he likes, a new ring, a book he saw and thought of him… Harry feels proper spoiled by the time his actual birthday comes along, and they’re heading to dinner at the restaurant Liam works at. 

It’s technically not _dinner_ because it’s 3:30pm, but it’s after the lunch rush when the whole place empties out in order for the kitchen staff to prep for dinner, which means they have the restaurant all to themselves. 

They do still all have to go through the descentifiers. Harry’s not as upset about it this time, especially when he confirms they can make an exception for Louis. It’s not that the machine is unsafe, it’s just that there hasn’t been much testing to know it’s definitely _safe_ for a pregnant person. He gets sprayed with scent neutralizers instead, which leaves a vague mist in the lobby for a few minutes until they’re seated. 

“I prepped everything earlier,” Liam’s saying now. “Let me just go in and make sure Stephanie is doing okay. We’re looking at her to be our second in command in the kitchen, as it were, and this is a good test.”

“So you’ve said,” Zayn says, taking a sip of water. 

Liam rolls his eyes but smiles, turning around and walking towards the kitchen. 

Lily, who’s sitting between Niall and Zayn, thwacks Zayns on the arm once Liam’s gone. 

“Ouch,” he says. 

“He’s nervous, you twat, this restaurant is like his baby.”

“Yeah, and if you don’t take the piss out of him a little, he goes in his head and obsesses,” Zayn says simply. 

Harry narrows his eyes lightly and tries to exchange a look with Louis, who’s right beside him, but Louis smiles softly down at his own cup of water and takes a drink. 

There’s been less teasing about Zayn and Liam’s one night stand as of late. Harry figured it was just the joke dying out, but now it feels more like there’s something he’s missing. 

He doesn’t have long to think about it before he gets distracted by Louis wincing slightly, placing his hand on his belly. 

“You okay?” Harry asks in a low voice, trying not to call attention to him, since it seems like that’s not what Louis wants. 

He smiles over at him, reaches out a hand to lightly pat Harry’s thigh and then leaves it there, rubbing little circles. It feels nice, comforting. Makes him feel warm. 

“F’course,” he says. “Just a little achy today.”

“Do you need to go to the doctor?”

“No, no. I called last week, when I first started feeling it, and she said it was just growth, just my body trying to accomodate a little person. She said it was very normal but to call if anything got worse.” 

“Can I do anything to help?”

“Yeah actually,” Louis says squeezing his thigh this time before pulling back. “You can enjoy your birthday. That’ll help.”

Harry rolls his eyes at that, and Louis looks quite proud of himself for that one. 

Liam comes back, looking more settled. They open a bottle of wine and toast to Harry, which he feels quite pleased about, especially when Louis takes a small sip out of Harry’s glass. (“What? It’s bad luck not to drink after cheers-ing.”)

The first course of the tasting menu comes out and they ebb and flow in different conversations. It feels so natural and lovely, Harry feels almost giddy with the feeling of love and friendship all around him. 

They open a second bottle with the second course. The food is tastier than Harry could have dreamt, and Liam looks both smug and humbled as they pass along compliments on the flavours and pairings. A third bottle is opened even before they’ve cleared those plates. 

After the fourth course, Harry leans his head on one hand, turning and looking at Louis, who’s talking animatedly to Liam about new dried fruit he’s tried as snacks to satisfy his sugar cravings. Liam offers to dehydrate some fresh fruit for him and Louis lights up at it, placing an arm around Liam’s shoulder and pulling him in for a hug, making a joke about dehydrating him, too. Or something. Harry can’t help but lose focus on the actual words when Louis throws his head back and laughs. 

Zayn leans over to show Liam something on his mobile and Louis reaches out for more of his water. Harry takes the distracted moment to reach out and press his thumb against the top of his thigh. 

Louis side-eyes him, but continues to drink. So Harry presses again a few times in quick succession, grinning wildly when he sees Louis crack a smile. 

“Can I help you?” he asks. 

Harry shrugs and giggles, letting his head drop further into his own hand to look at Louis sideways. He looks nice from this angle. Looks nice from other angles too, but there’s an especially lovely view of his eyes from the way Harry’s tilting his head. He might like this angle best. 

“Just enjoying my birthday,” he says, after a beat too long. 

“Oh yeah? Enjoying that birthday wine a little too much I think. I’m going to have to drag you back home and take care of you, aren’t I?”

Harry nods. “S’my birthday.”

“It is,” Louis agrees. 

“Have to take care of people on their birthdays.”

Louis laughs. It makes Harry smile more automatically. “Well, then I guess I have to then, don’t I?”

Harry leans forward a bit as he hums, “Mhm.”

Louis sucks in a breath quietly. Harry’s almost sure he’s the only one who hears it, because he’s the only one this close to Louis. 

Oh. Oh he’s _very_ close to Louis now. No more than a few inches between their faces. When did that happen?

Louis jerks his head up when Niall asks, “What’re you two lovebirds chatting about?”

And when Harry tilts his head back to look at the rest of the table, they’re all looking between the two of them with varied expressions on their faces. Harry thinks if he’d had just a little less wine, he’d be able to tell what they were. 

“Just figuring out how many cases of this wine we should order for young Hazza, here, since he likes it so much,” Louis says, smiling bright at Niall. 

“It’s true,” Niall says, “never seen this one so giggly.”

“M’not giggly,” Harry giggles. 

They all laugh just as dessert comes out. It’s a cake from the bakery by Louis’ work, the one that he bought the pastries from that second night after they met. There are sparklers lit on top of it and everyone at the table —plus the three servers— all sing _happy birthday_ to him. He’s embarrassed and giddy and can’t help but look over at Louis as he tries to blow them out, feeling like he doesn’t even need to make a wish because he’s been so lucky already.

Louis takes a swipe at the cake with his pointer finger, and Harry doesn’t realize what’s happening until whipped cream frosting gets smeared along his nose. Harry wrinkles his nose and waits for Louis to reach over with his napkin to wipe it off, sighing exasperatedly like it’s a chore, but his eyes sparkle a little, so Harry doesn’t feel too bad about it. 

The cake is made of light vanilla sponge and fresh strawberries mixed in with cream. It’s delicious and Harry’s happy to be taking the leftover half of the cake home with him.

In the lobby, Harry struggles buttoning up his coat for a full minute before Louis pushes his hands away and does it for him. 

“Barely 5pm, Hazza, and you’re drunk as a skunk.”

Harry leans forward into Louis’ neck and laughs at that. “Drunk as a _skunk._ ” 

“How much wine did he actually have?” Lily asks, zipping up her own jacket.

“He was drinking for two," Niall says, "since Louis insisted on being poured a glass every time and then made Harry drink them both.”

“It’s his _birthday,”_ Louis argues, sounding haughty. “He deserves to have some fun, after staying home and trying to take care of me all the time.” 

Harry pulls back and looks at him very seriously. “I love taking care of you,” he says. 

And Louis just blinks at him for a moment before shaking his head and smiling. “And I’m grateful for that, Hazza. But tonight is about you. So where-to next? Go out and paint the town?”

Harry breathes in deep through his nose and lets it out slowly, shaking his head. 

“Wanna watch a film.” 

“Okay, anything on at the cinema you’ve been wanting to see? Bet we could even sneak in some more wine.”

“No, no. Home.” 

“Oh,” Louis says, “are you sure?”

Harry just nods and cradles the box with the cake in his arms. 

“This is the most low-key birthday I’ve ever been to in this group,” Niall says. 

_This group._ Harry’s insides flutter at being named part of the group, out loud, to the rest of them, where no one objects. 

“Best birthday,” Harry says.

Liam says goodbye to them, getting ready to finish set-up for the dinner setting, and the rest of them head to the tube. Both Harry and Louis sit down on a couple of seats while the others stand in front of them. 

“Lily and I need to run to Tesco, do yous want to come?” Niall asks.

“Oh, yeah,” Zayn says. “I need to grab some coffee, I’m all out." 

“I think I’m good,” Louis says. 

“Yeah, you can’t have coffee,” Harry says. “Caffeine,” he adds belatedly.

“Right you are, Hazza. Don’t want the baby coming out jonesing for bean juice.”

Harry laughs hard at that, losing his breath and throwing an arm around Louis’ shoulder, pulling him in so he can feel how hard he’s making him laugh. 

“Lou—” Zayn says, but immediately Louis cuts him off. 

“I’m fine. I am, I swear.” Louis shifts and makes them more comfortable in their seats. “Go on, we’re all good here.” 

“We’re good here,” Harry repeats. He opens his eyes just in time to see Niall, Lily and Zayn send waves over their shoulders as they get off the train. Harry raises a hand to wave back at them as the doors shut. 

He turns back to look at Louis then, breathing in deep and then frowning. “You don’t smell like you.”

“It’s the neutralizers, honey, you remember? You don’t smell like you either.”

“Oh, right.” Harry says. “I won’t smell like me for longer than you won’t smell like you.”

“That is true,” Louis says, putting a hand on Harry’s abdomen and patting there lightly. Harry captures it as Louis starts to pull away, and brings both of their hands up to his chest, closing his eyes and smiling. 

“Someone’s alpha had a good afternoon,” some voice he doesn’t recognize says. Harry peeks an eye open to see what that somebody’s talking about. 

There’s an older woman with soft-looking auburn hair in the seat across from them, smiling. 

“Oh, we’re not—” Louis says. 

But Harry gets to it before he can finish. “I’m not an alpha,” he says. 

“Oh,” she says, looking embarrassed. “Oh, sorry. I heard neutralizers and just… I'm sorry, with you being…”

“It’s okay,” Louis assures her. “No worries.” 

“No worries,” Harry repeats. And he thinks briefly that this is the second time someone thought he was an alpha while without his omega scent. And Louis thought he was a beta, but that’s just because of the absence of smell. He wonders if Louis would have thought he was an alpha if he’d known about the descenitifier. 

Harry turns to Louis and asks, “Would I be a good alpha, Louis?”

Louis lets out a strained chuckle. “You’re a great everything, Haz.”

Something about that makes him feel sad. He tries to figure out why, but before he knows it, Louis is encouraging him to stand because it’s their stop. 

It takes them longer to get home than usual because Louis seems to be walking slower, which Harry doesn’t mind. The cold air feels nice on his skin, and he’s pretty sure he’s keeping Louis warm where he’s tucked under his arm, so they’ll be okay. It’s helping with the heavy feeling in his head, too. Feels like it’s sobering him up at least a little. 

Once inside, Harry gets the strange feeling that Louis’ going to try and come in and put Harry to bed, even if it is so early, so he takes a breath and perks up as they make it to their floor, and Harry pulls them towards the door of Louis flat. Louis doesn’t object at all, just opens it and gets them inside. 

“Film?” Harry asks, once their coats are off and hanging up by the door.

Louis smirks at him and nods. “What d’you want to watch?”

Harry can’t remember the name of a single film right now, so he just says, “Something happy.”

Halfway through, Harry ends up lying down with his head on Louis’ lap, the back of it resting lightly against his baby bump. Louis’ carefully carding his fingers through Harry’s hair. It feels so nice. 

Harry curls a hand around Louis’ thigh, fingertips brushing at the inseam of his soft joggers, and places a kiss right above that space before snuggling down and closing his eyes. 

Suddenly, Harry’s eyes fly open as he feels a slight thud against the back of his head. He blinks a few times at the television to see a new film is playing. He clears his throat as quietly as he can and yawns. He’s not sure what woke him up, but everything is still and quiet, so he snuggles down into Louis’ thighs again and closes his eyes. 

But then, again. Brief pressure against the back of his head that goes away just as quickly. 

“Oh,” he hears Louis say. 

Harry opens his eyes and shifts his head to look up, finding Louis looking down at his belly, one hand sliding around the side to feel the front of it, where Harry’s head just was. Harry sits himself up just as Louis exclaims again. 

“Ah!” He looks over at Harry. “They kicked!”

“What?” Harry asks, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. 

“They kicked!” he says again. With his other hand, Louis grabs his wrist, dragging it up to press Harry's palm against Louis' belly.

They wait for several seconds. Harry’s just about to open his mouth and ask Louis if he’s sure that’s what he felt, when he feels it himself; a quick little bump against their hands, barely any movement. 

They stare at their hands on Louis’ bump. 

It happens again, more forcefully this time. 

“Oh my god,” Louis says. 

“Oh my god,” Harry whispers.

“They kicked! Harry!” Louis is looking at him, eyes glistening.

“They kicked,” Harry agrees, in awe. “Little love wanted us to know they’re here.”

Another two kicks in quick succession. 

Louis laughs and removes his hands from his belly. Harry looks down and caresses Louis’ bump again, waiting for more kicks, when he feels two hands on the side of his face, and he doesn’t have time to process the feeling or what’s coming before Louis presses his lips against Harry’s. 

It’s just a peck. A fleeting moment of connection before Louis drops his hands and laughs and pushes off the sofa in order to stand up. 

“I have to call my mum, oh my god.” He sounds so happy, little watery giggles slipping out of him as he turns and walks to the kitchen to grab his mobile. 

Harry is frozen. His lips are tingly, feeling soft and sensitive for no good reason. He blinks and raises a hand —the hand that was just resting on Louis’ baby bump— up to his mouth just for a second before he realizes what he’s doing. He promptly puts his hands on his thighs and looks up to see Louis standing a couple of meters in front of him just outside the kitchen. 

Louis’ beaming as he speaks into the phone, “The first real kick, can you believe it?” His eyes flicker over to Harry. “Yeah, Harry felt it, too.”

Then he turns around and starts pacing as he and his mum talk, one hand on his belly again, leaving Harry to process the totally new feeling surrounding him.

Quickly, he thinks back to all the times he’s been kissed, running through the highlights like they’re on a reel. None of them stand out as particularly life-changing, except maybe his first kiss and the feeling that something was missing, which he’d just attributed afterward to being lost in fantasies of what it was supposed to be like. 

What just happened here with Louis… it didn’t feel like a kiss, so much as a moment. And Harry doesn’t know what to do about that. 

So obviously he does nothing. He sits back against the sofa and looks at the television and tries not to think so loudly, since his thoughts don’t make any sense anyway. Ten minutes later, when Louis sits down beside him, he stills feels the tingle on his skin. 

“They’ve stopped now,” Louis says, both hands still on his belly, holding it firmly and carefully, like he doesn’t want to chance missing another second of the feeling against his hands. “Sorry for attacking you by the way,” he adds.

“What?” Harry asks. 

“I just grabbed at you because I was excited, I hope you’ll forgive me. It’s just,” he beams down at himself, at the baby inside of him. “They just got excited, which got me excited, you know?” 

Harry nods dumbly and tries to process what he’s saying. Louis didn’t mean to kiss him. Or not really kiss him, even. It was barely a brush. Almost like a pat on the arm but… for lips. 

“You alright?” Louis asks him then. 

Harry pushes a smile onto his face and nods. And then it becomes real as he thinks about what just happened. “Yeah,” Harry says. “I don’t blame them, I’m excited, too.” 

Louis closes his eyes and rests his head back against the cushions. “I just didn’t expect it to feel like that. Wow.”

Harry nods and definitely does not think _me either._


	8. Chapter 8

Louis (3:45pm): _Hey Harry, I think I’m going to turn in early tonight. You okay with a rain check on fish and chips?_

He got the text hours ago. He’d replied, _Of course, hope everything’s okay?_ But there’s been no response. Nothing from him at all, which makes Harry feel uneasy. He’s on the tube, debating whether or not he should just knock on his door to double check on him. Ultimately, he decides against it, since there’s no knowing what an early night means for Louis right now; he could be asleep already. 

Once inside his flat, he starts making dinner. It’s bizarre to be doing it on his own, without Louis to grab ingredients for him when he asks, or to watch him chop things while explaining what’s happening with his current projects, or having an impromptu dance party to whatever Louis pulls up from Harry’s mobile. 

They’ve had nights apart, of course, but usually it’s Louis going out to dinner with a friend, or Harry staying late at work. But even then, it’s more normal than not for Louis to pop by before he heads to bed to watch an episode of Bake Off or something. And it feels odd that Louis canceled so last minute without reason or reply. 

He tries to shake off the weirdness of it and enjoy being on his own. Which he really likes. He likes the calmness of his flat and that he doesn't have to think so hard about what someone would see him doing. Here, alone, he’s just himself. 

_Himself_ is harder to be though, lately, since that concept has gotten more ambiguous over the last few months. It feels like a conversation that’s always happening in the back of his mind. _What does he feel? What does he want to feel? Does he actually need to think about this or is he psyching himself out for nothing? What even is the_ self _?_

He spends twenty minutes on some psychology page with that last one, but closes it when he’s too deep in academic language to understand. 

Alone in his flat, on a night he’s supposed to be debating the best type of fried fish and the proper ratio of vinegar to salt, the question becomes more insistent. Naturally, he spends four hours baking biscuits to keep himself from thinking about it. 

It keeps him up, anyway, the internal questions, so he touches himself. It starts with soft scratches up and down his belly, which leads him to thinking about Louis’ stretch marks and how iridescent they look whenever he takes off a jumper and his shirt rides up so Harry catches a quick peak of them. 

Those aren’t sexy thoughts, though, so he shakes himself out of it. 

He moves to palming himself over the sheet, creating some tension and friction, which leads him to thinking about the sheets Louis picked out for little love’s cot, how the pattern is shooting stars and constellations, and the jokes about baby astronomers and miny telescopes. He can’t help the smile that overtakes his face as he remembers Louis talking about _baby’s first visit to the planetarium_.

 _No,_ Harry thinks. He huffs and slips his hand underneath the sheet to grasp himself. He’s hard and wet and he just needs a little help to push him over the edge. He reaches down to his rim, dragging his fingers through the slick and up before coating his cock. 

Faceless _Alpha_ in his head is panting against his neck and thumbing over the head, telling Harry how hot it is that he’s so wet for him. Harry’s lips are tingling, he opens his mouth and out comes a breathy moan. It takes him aback, hearing the noise dissipate into the air. 

_So needy,_ Harry pictures _Alpha_ saying. He moans again. He licks his lips, wants to make them look more enticing and moves his hand faster. _So close, aren’t you? Being so good for me. C’mon, Hazza, come for me._

Harry comes with a whine, not stopping his hand as he works himself through it. His heartbeat is pounding in his own ears. He only has enough time to realize he can’t slide over to the other side of the bed because of all the clothes and that he’s going to fall asleep covered in come, before he passes out. 

***

In the morning, holding a container filled with three different kinds of biscuits, he knocks on Louis’ flat. He waits for a full minute before knocking again. 

He hears some shuffling behind the door, and it’s opened to reveal a grumpy looking Louis, bags under his eyes, dressed in a tracksuit that's definitely seen better days. 

Louis rubs an eye and yawns, not saying anything. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Harry asks awkwardly. 

“Yeah,” Louis says. “What’s up?”

“I’m sorry,” Harry says. 

“You said.”

“Right, yeah, sorry. I mean… I made some biscuits. There’s a chocolate, an orange and lemon, and a shortbread. Suppose I just… wanted to drop them by incase your sweet tooth was acting up.”

Louis looks down at the container in his hands and frowns, sighing. He reaches out for them and says, “Thanks.”

They stand there, Harry awkwardly staring at Louis while Louis frowns at the biscuits, until Harry clears his throat and says, “I’ll be off to work then.”

He’s turned away when Louis says, “Harry.” He sighs again as Harry looks at him. “I think I just need a few days on my own.”

His stomach drops. Oh. 

Harry nods and tries to smile, like that sentence didn’t twist a knife in his gut. “Yeah, of course. I didn’t mean to uhm… interrupt or anything.”

“No, I know. You didn’t,” Louis says, not frowning anymore. Looking quite tired, mostly, and a little sad. “Thank you for the biscuits.”

Harry just nods and waves before turning and walking down the stairs. He does his best to push down the feeling of rejection. Because it wasn’t. It’s normal for people to need time to themselves, Harry knows this. He also knows they’ve been practically attached at the hip, so they more than anyone probably need a break. It’s a good thing. 

He’s quieter than usual during his morning meetings. Candace sends him curious glances throughout and then closes the door when they’re back in their office. 

“Are you okay?” she asks. 

“Yeah, of course,” Harry says automatically. 

She looks unconvinced, moving around Harry’s desk to sit against the edge of it. She crosses her arms over her green dress and asks, “Did you and your omega have a fight or something?”

Harry whips his head over to her, in slight shock. “What?”

She squints at him, mouth pulling to the side. “You just seem down today, not focusing, and your eyes are a bit red so I thought maybe… Maybe I was wrong, sorry.”

“My omega?” Harry asks curiously. 

“A fight with someone else then?”

Harry closes his eyes and shakes his head. He’s having a hard time understanding what this means. 

“Who do you think is my omega?”

“My best guess would be whoever I’ve been smelling on you for months,” she says, but then she sees he’s genuinely confused. “Wait, is that not it?”

Harry swallows and looks away from her. 

“Sorry, Harry,” Candace says, uncrossing her arms and gripping the edge of his desk. “You just started smelling different, and you seemed happier. I guess I put something together that wasn’t meant to go.” 

“I seemed happier?” he asks. 

“Well, yeah,” she says, like it’s obvious. 

“I wasn’t happy before?”

“No, that’s not it,” she says. “You’ve just seemed lighter, like you’ve been having more fun. That’s all.” 

Huh. 

“So if it’s not a fight with your omega, what is it?” Candace asks. 

His omega. 

“No, nothing,” Harry says, fighting off a blush, sniffing once and leaning forward to log onto his computer again. 

Candace stays in place for a beat, but then nods and says, “Okay.”

“It’s just an off day,” he says to her. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Okay,” she says, with slightly more emphasis this time, like she believes him. She pats his shoulder and goes to her desk.

Harry spends the afternoon clicking around and half-heartedly doing work without really paying attention. Before he knows it, it’s time for his last meeting of the day with his boss and their marketing team, which includes Niall, who lights up when he sees him. 

“Hey H,” he says, grinning at him from across the table. “It’s been a couple of weeks. Did you and Louis enjoy your film?”

“Yeah, we did, thanks,” Harry says. “Get what you needed at Tesco?”

“They didn’t have the sweets Lily was after, but we found a reasonable substitute. 

The other person from the marketing firm —Harry’s forgotten his name— looks between them in confusion. He looks like he’s about to ask a question, but then Victoria comes in. She’s small and pixie-ish, with a heart-shaped face and a lithe frame, but looks stern with the blunt bob accentuating her cheekbones.

She glides in without a glance in Niall or the other man’s direction and gracefully takes a seat next to Harry, folding her hands on her lap before looking at Niall expectantly. 

“Victoria Hales,” Niall says sunnily, “always a pleasure.”

Niall made the mistake of calling her Mrs. Hales in their first meeting. He was met with cold eyes and raised eyebrows challenging him. He hadn’t said anything, but made sure to never call her anything other than her full name again. 

She doesn’t say anything now, just nods once and turns to Harry. 

“Is everything set for the member’s night next weekend?” she asks Harry.

Harry takes a deep breath and nods. She smells like someone popping by unexpectedly and the slight panic of trying to come up with tea from whatever’s in the fridge. “Vendors all confirmed this morning and I double checked staffing with Lisa on Tuesday. Candace sent out the email to members yesterday afternoon and from the report Niall built for us, it looks like we have a 24% interaction rate on it so far.”

“And we expect that to go up over the weekend,” Niall adds.

Victoria looks over at Niall again. “By how much?” she asks. 

Niall puffs out his cheeks as he thinks about it. “Hard to pin-point exactly, but we’ve gotten up to 28% of similar emails this year. Somewhere in that range wouldn’t be a stretch.”

“So you don’t know,” Victoria deadpans. 

Niall just smiles. “No one knows exactly what the future holds, Victoria Hales, but we do our best to estimate.” 

Harry smiles at him to make up for Victoria’s lack of response. Niall doesn’t seem to mind either way. 

They talk a bit more about the next round of adverts, and Niall shows them mockups. Immediately, Harry recognizes them. Or, a version of them, anyway. Louis had shown him a similar design without any of the text, said he was working on a secret project he couldn’t tell Harry about. He smiles a little, thinking about it. Wondering if Louis wanted it to be a surprise, or if it just got recycled to this campaign. Either way. 

“I love it,” Harry says. 

Victoria crosses her arms and stares critically at it for a few more seconds before saying, “I do, too.” 

Niall blinks in surprise at such blatant praise from Victoria, or as close to it as she’s ever gotten. “Great! I’ll let our team know. We were thinking of running them by a test group this week and aiming to launch next month.”

“Good,” Victoria says. “Please send those over to both Harry and me to review and give feedback.” 

“Of course, Victoria Hales.”

She stands then, and so do the rest of them. “Good work,” she says to Niall and his coworker before leaving the room. 

Niall looks at Harry, pleasant shock evident on his face. “I’m not dreaming, am I?”

“You’re not,” Harry says. 

“Three years I’ve been trying to get on her good side; think we finally did it?”

“Can’t be totally sure, but I’d say so,” Harry says. 

Niall turns to his coworker then and says, “Louis and Zayn are going to be chuffed.”

Harry smiles and then grimaces a little. At least there’s something to make Louis happy today. When he looks back up, Niall is looking at him. He pats the other man on the shoulder and tells him to head back to the office without him. 

Niall leans his hands on the table and asks, “Fancy a pint?”

Harry laughs a little and says, “It’s only 4pm, I’m still on the clock for a bit.”

Niall shrugs and smiles impishly. Harry looks to the side and thinks. No more meetings today, and he hasn’t been that productive anyway. 

“Yeah alright. Let me grab my things and I’ll meet you out front.” 

“Wicked.”

They end up at a pub up the road and Niall is gracious enough to wait until they’re halfway through their pints before asking, “So what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Harry says, not looking at him and taking a drink. 

“Okay. Then what’s making your face do that thing?”

Harry laughs and shakes his head. “Just a lot of thoughts.”

“Oh yeah? Are they helpful thoughts?”

Humming and considering, Harry decides on, “Not really.”

“What can we do to make them more helpful?”

Harry looks at Niall then, really looking at him, and remembers what Louis told him. “Actually… can I ask you a question?”

Niall nods and waits expectantly.

Harry takes a breath, but can’t seem to actually get himself to say _how did you figure out you didn’t want to have sex with anyone,_ so what comes out instead is, “How did you figure out you didn’t like potatoes?”

There’s no reaction at first and then there’s deep confusion. It’s followed by minor amusement and more confusion. “You’ve stumped me on that one, my friend, what do you mean?”

“It’s like,” Harry says, and then swallows. “It’s a metaphor.”

Niall nods and considers him.

“Like there are different kinds of potatoes and different ways to make those potatoes and some people only like mashed while others like sweet but never baked and…” Harry lets out a helpless sound as Niall looks even more lost now. “And Louis said he doesn’t care about the potatoes or how they’re made, but he’s mostly had mashed. And he said you didn’t like potatoes and that Lily didn’t need you to like potatoes.”

It’s like a lightbulb goes off in Niall’s head. “Oh,” he says. “ _Oh._ Right. _Potatoes_ , okay I’m with you now. What was the question?” He takes another pull of his pint, looking more ready and even more attentive. 

“How did you know you didn’t like eating potatoes?”

Niall nods and looks down at his glass thoughtfully. “It was a process,” he says. “People always talked about it, but it was like they were talking about… a recipe in a different language. I went with it for a while, tried some things out, but nothing, like, helped me understand the recipe. Eventually I went online and searched for… ‘I don’t understand this recipe, what's wrong’, because it’s easy to think somethings wrong when it feels like you’re the only one who can’t read the recipe.”

Niall smiles and taps his glass on the bar quietly. “I actually found quite a few people also didn’t understand the recipe. And a couple of them were like, _here’s how to understand it_ , but a whole bunch talked about not needing the recipe at all, if it’s not what you wanted. And that resonated with me.”

Harry looks down at the glass he’s clutching in his hands and thinks about that. 

“Do you understand the recipe?” Niall asks. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “Yes. And no. Maybe I just need help translating it.”

“Maybe,” Niall agrees.

“Did you always know you were your kind of potato?”

Niall squints and hums in question. 

“If you’re a russet, and I’m a yukon gold and the bartender is a red, did you ever feel like you weren’t a russet?”

“Ah,” Niall says, nodding. “No I’ve always been a russet, always felt like a russet. Do you feel like a russet or a red?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes. Or no,” Harry sighs. “Maybe.”

Niall lets out a helpless laugh, and places a hand on his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, H. Just think about it, yeah? Do some searching of your own and see what calls out to you.”

“Yeah,” Harry says miserably. 

“You don’t have to have it all figured out, you know?” he says. Harry takes another sip and nods. “And who knows, maybe someday you’ll read something and _bam!_ It all makes sense.”

Harry nods again, pondering that as Niall orders a couple more pints for them. Maybe he just hasn’t done enough reading, hasn’t found the thing he needs to find yet. 

“Have you talked to Louis about what you’re feeling about all of this?” Niall asks, passing him the second pint. 

Harry shakes his head. 

“Do you want to?”

Harry shrugs and sighs, putting his elbow on the bar and leaning his head on it. It feels so heavy all of a sudden. “Yes and no.”

“I think you should,” Niall says. “I think it’ll clear some things up for both of you.”

Harry nods, but then realizes he has no idea what he’s agreeing with. But before he can ask, Niall is talking again. 

“And for the love of god, tell him to stop talking in metaphors. At least ones that aren’t easily explainable to others. I felt like Liam that one time Zayn tried to explain modern art at a gallery opening.” 

“Okay,” Harry says, lifting his head and letting his arm fall against the bar with a light _smack._ “What’s up with the two of them, anyway? Did something else happen? No ones taken the piss in ages and it seems like it was a _decision_ rather than it just died out.”

Niall laughs and shrugs. “Lou asked us to lay off, so we did.”

“Did he say why?” 

“No. Lily and I agreed straight away but it seemed like he was ready to argue if we didn’t, so he definitely knows something. We didn’t push, but I’d love to know as well. It was fun, even if it’s not true.”

Harry furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think they actually slept together,” he says. “Just the way that they’ve always been with each other, it doesn’t seem likely. But hey, maybe. We’ve all had flings, haven’t we?”

“No,” Harry admits.

“No, me neither,” Niall says with another laugh. Harry joins in. 

They spend another hour or so at the bar. Niall is easily the most agreeable person he’s ever met, and they chat about anything that comes to mind with no awkward pauses or uneasiness. It’s almost the perfect night. 

Almost perfect, because all he wants to do when he gets back home is go over to Louis’ and talk about it. Wants to talk about Niall and how great he is. Wants to get Louis’ opinion on the things he doesn’t understand about what he feels. Wants a more detailed answer when Louis said he didn’t have preferences for potatoes; he thinks it would help him understand what’s going on in his own head, probably. At least he thinks that's why he wants to ask. 

Harry tries not to mope around about it, so he digs out his bottle of stims for when he feels a bit fuzzy around the edges and spends the next two nights baking up a storm. More biscuits and some scones. He even makes a quiche to set himself up for breakfast the next few days, suppressing the urge to bring a few slices over to Louis, as well. 

***

Three days later, just as he’s debating whether he should make a swiss roll or a sticky toffee pudding, there’s a knock on his door. His heart leaps, and he tries not to work himself up as he walks on over to it. 

He’s never been so happy to see Louis standing in front of him, even if he does look sheepish, holding Chinese takeaway in his arms. Harry holds the door open to let him in and Louis only glances into the kitchen —probably noticing all of the baked goods stacked in their containers— before heading directly for his little kitchen table. Harry gets a couple of plates and two glasses of water before joining him. 

Harry waits for Louis to say something, but he doesn’t, just starts opening containers with food in them —Harry’s favourites— so he doesn’t say anything either, just starts spooning food onto his plate. 

They eat in relative quiet for several minutes before Louis puts down his chopsticks and looks at Harry. 

“I missed you,” he says, and then, “I’m sorry.”

Harry, who had just taken a big bite of dumpling to stop himself from saying something embarrassing, practically chokes as he tries to swallow it. He takes a big drink of water to stop the coughing while watching Louis looking alarmed as he rubs Harry’s shoulder. 

“I missed you, too,” Harry says once he can breathe again. 

Louis smiles at him and looks relieved. “I didn’t mean to freeze you out,” he says. 

“Everyone needs their alone time,” Harry says. 

Louis’ lips pull into a thin line quickly before he nods. “Yeah,” he says, “but I should have let you in on why I needed it.”

Harry’s heart starts beating a little faster. 

“You didn’t need—”

“No, I know,” Louis says, sliding his hand down from Harry’s shoulder and settling on his forearm. “But little love will be here before I know it. As long as it doesn’t make anyone uncomfortable, it’s no time to be tamping down my feelings and things, right?”

Harry’s heart takes off in his chest. “Right,” he says. 

“So I should tell you,” Louis says. He pauses to sigh and Harry doesn’t remember how to blink normally until Louis continues. “I was freaking out about not nesting.” 

His breath catches in his throat and he chokes out a, “What?”

“I’m not nesting,” he says again, “and I was trying to figure out how to deal with that this week.” 

Harry feels his whole body heat up. Other people almost never talk about nesting, it’s such a soft and intimate thing, shared only with a mate in most cases. 

“All the baby books say that I should be nesting at this stage, and I’m just… not. I’ve got all the things I’ve bought in their room, and besides the cot we put together a few weeks ago, nothing is set up.” He exhales, and it feels like he’s trying to let go of the stress with his breath. It also sounds like it’s not working. 

“My doctor said it’s unusual, but not unheard of,” he says, looking down and pushing some food around on his plate. “My mum thinks it’s because I’m nervous right now, and that it’ll come a bit later for me, but. Now I’m freaking out because I’m close to seven months along and I’m not scenting my baby’s room. That’s weird, don’t you think?”

Harry blinks at the side of Louis’ face. Louis who is looking near-distraught as he stares down at his plate. 

“I don’t think it’s weird,” is what Harry says, before he knows what he’s going to say. 

“You don’t?”

Harry clears his throat. “No. I think your mum is right, that you’re nervous. It’ll probably come soon.”

Louis looks at him, mouth pulled to the side like he’s unsure. 

“Hey.” Harry puts a hand on top of Louis’ that’s resting on his forearm. He brushes a thumb along the skin until he sees Louis smile. “Even if you don’t end up nesting traditionally, it doesn’t mean anything. You _love_ this baby, and you’re going to continue to love them, and it won’t matter if you scent their room or have everything set up and perfect. Your heart is in it and that’s what matters.”

Louis has tears in his eyes when he looks up at Harry this time. Harry has the strangest urge to cup his cheeks and be able to wipe away anything that falls, not wanting to see him so sad. He keeps his hands where they are. 

“Thank you, Hazza,” Louis says, standing and shuffling around enough to hug him. His bump is pressed against Harry’s chest and immediately he feels a kick. It makes Louis laugh. “Well hey,” he says to his belly as he sits back down. He lets out a watery laugh. “They must really like you.”

Harry takes a breath and says, “I sure hope so, I’ve been feeding them for months.”

Louis laughs and holds his hands against his belly with a soft expression on his face. “They haven’t kicked at all the last few days,” he says quietly. “I think they could tell I was stressed. And I’m a little less stressed now, thanks to you.” 

Harry doesn’t know what to say to that at all. He does a sort of nod and a bizarre noise comes out of his mouth that makes Louis laugh at him, which breaks whatever weirdness Harry was feeling and has him feeling more settled. 

Louis gets up again and throws his arms around Harry’s neck and holds on tight. Harry’s arms wrap around his back automatically. He holds him close and gently, nuzzling into him and kissing the juncture of his shoulder and neck. 

Abruptly, Louis stills and then carefully straightens up. There’s a slight scent change in the air that Harry’s trying to identify, but Louis pats his shoulder and moves around him, knocking him out of it. 

“I’m just going to pop to the loo. Pregnancy bladder, and with the kicking… be right back.”

Harry nods belatedly and goes back to his food, slowly chewing on a smaller bite of dumpling. 

When Louis comes back, he smiles and picks up his chopsticks again. Harry taps his own against his plate and asks, “Was that it?”

“Hm?”

“The nesting thing was why you needed time alone?”

“Oh,” Louis says. “Um, yes. Yeah it was just the nesting.”

Harry nods and they both go back into their dinner. 

“Can we watch Bake Off tonight?” Louis asks, after a few minutes. “I haven’t been able to watch any of it. Felt like cheating.”

Harry nods and says, “I haven’t either.”

“It’s settled then,” Louis says, picking up a dumpling. “I’ve eaten Chinese food four days in a row now, if you can believe it, and I’m not tired of it yet.”

“It’s not as good as my food though, right?” Harry asks, feeling cheeky but also a little bit vulnerable as he says it. 

“Ah, of course not,” Louis says. “Literally ate all those biscuits you brought over in one sitting. Plopped right down on the sofa, trying to get work done and just absolutely devoured them.” 

“I’ll make you more tomorrow,” Harry says. 

“You don’t have to.”

“Well okay.”

A pause. “Maybe just a few more of the orange and lemon.”

Harry smiles and says, “Of course.” He thinks, _Anything for you._


	9. Chapter 9

“I like this one,” Harry says, holding out a light blue and white striped button down. 

Louis frowns at it, clutching at the yellow jumper in his hands, like Harry might try to take it from him. He’s standing beside a rack of sweaters that all look extremely cozy, but are far from what they came here for. 

“You can get the jumper too, but c’mon, you said you needed a new shirt for virtual meetings at work, and I think this one is nice.” 

Louis frowns harder at it. “It looks stiff.”

Harry smiles at him sympathetically. “Button downs are stiff.”

Louis tilts his head up towards the ceiling, pouting and whining. “Corporate jobs are the worst.”

“You like your job,” Harry reminds him.

“Yeah, but I hate the clothes. And the culture. And the people.” 

“You don’t hate the people.”

“Sometimes I do.”

“Would you hate them less in green?”

Louis sighs and looks at him. “Probably won’t even fit. I’m massive.” 

“You’re not massive, you’re pregnant.”

“Massively pregnant.”

“You are 32 weeks along.”

“So you _agree_?”

“You’re _pregnant,_ Louis, of course you’re going to get bigger. Your body is changing in lots of different ways.”

“So you think I’m ugly?” Louis glares at him. 

“You will not get out of buying a shirt by trying to argue with me. I’ve seen your face when you’re actually cross, you can’t play me like that.”

Louis tries to glare a little harder, but then drops it, looking pitiful instead. He sighs. “Fine. But get the next size up, I will not be waddling out here to get a bigger size.”

Harry obliges and switches it out for a bigger size, even though he has a feeling this one will be too big. 

“C’mon, we’ll get you some soft jersey knit shirts to wear under it, too,” he says. “Those will feel nice against your skin.”

He follows him to the next set of racks across the aisle. Harry gets distracted and picks one up that says _mama bear_ on it _,_ with a cartoon image of a bear and a cub. 

“Aw, this is so cute!”

Louis makes a gagging noise. 

“You don’t like it?” Harry asks. 

“I hate cutesy things like that,” he says, wrinkling his nose at it. “Feels like I should be hoarding a thousand candles and talking about nothing else besides how my baby’s going to be better than all the other babies.”

Harry flips it over to look at it, at the little characters, their happy faces. “I don’t know, I think it’s more fierce than that. Like you’ll protect the baby at all costs. It’s how I always pictured being a mum.”

When he flips it around and looks back at Louis, he’s flush and staring at Harry’s face. 

“Louis?” Harry says, concerned. “Are you okay, do you need to sit down?”

Louis blinks and swallows. “No, I’m fine.” He’s quiet for a moment, looking down at the shirt. “I don’t even want to be called mama.”

“Oh,” Harry says. Then he nods and puts the shirt away, picking up a plain white one instead. “What do you want to be called?”

Louis shrugs but looks away, giving Harry the impression that he knows exactly his answer but doesn’t want to share it.

“I always liked _mummy_ ,” Harry says. “It’s so cute when they first start talking, their little voices. Although mum is solid, too.”

Louis bites at the inside of his cheek, pulling at a pair of trousers on a hanger like he’s thinking about buying them. Louis hasn’t worn anything but joggers in more than a month now. 

He drops them and says, “I think I should try that on now.” 

“Yeah, alright,” Harry says, and they walk to the fitting rooms. Harry passes him the button down and holds everything else. Louis shuts the curtain and Harry leans against the wall next to it as he waits. 

It’s quiet for a couple of minutes, only the sound of rustling material. It stops and there’s total silence for a full minute. 

Suddenly, Louis asks, “What do you think of _papa_?”

Harry looks at the curtain separating them. It takes him a few seconds, but he feels himself smile when he understands.

“I think you’d make a great papa,” Harry says softly. 

The curtain opens, and Louis’ standing there, in a shirt that’s definitely too big for him, looking wide-eyed and unsure. “Really?”

Harry nods and looks all around his face. He chuckles once and says, “You look like a papa, actually.”

Louis turns and looks in the mirror, studying himself. Harry keeps watching Louis’ face as he thinks, holding the armful of clothes close to his chest. 

“I thought so,” Louis says, “It just feels right, you know? Like I know it’s not what omegas use but… I don’t know. Do you think people will think it’s weird?”

“Probably,” Harry says honestly, “but I don’t think it should matter what people think. I think it’s your decision and people will need to respect whatever you choose.”

Louis considers that and then nods, smiling a little up at Harry through his reflection. “I’m going to be a papa,” he says tentatively. 

They smile at each other and it looks like Louis’ about to start tearing up, so Harry says, “Alright, come on now. That ones too big.”

Louis scoffs, “It isn’t,” as he closes the curtain again. There’s more rustling as Louis changes. 

“You’ll only have to wear it for an hour at a time.”

“They’re only going to see my shoulders, and this way I can wear the jumper under it and it’s fine.”

“That’s why you’re getting the knit t-shirts to go underneath.”

“But my arms will still be touching it.”

Harry sighs. “If I go back and get the long sleeve ones instead, will that do?”

Louis opens the curtain, back in his own clothes. He shrugs exaggeratedly but then smirks as they walk out of the fitting room.

“Alright, hand them over.” Then he nods at a couple of chairs against the wall. “Just sit here and try not to cause any trouble,” he says, adding a cheeky wink.

Louis does as he’s told, taking a seat and folding the yellow jumper over one arm and holding it against his belly. 

Harry shakes his head as he walks away, putting the unwanted items back in their spots as he goes. He debates for a minute about getting the button down in another colour, just so Louis can have a spare in case this one gets dirty. He decides to grab it and prepares to argue with him if need be. He smiles at the thought as he grabs a few long-sleeve maternity shirts, soft and stretchy enough to last Louis through the rest of his pregnancy. 

As he rounds the corner, from half a dozen meters away, Harry sees a man standing in front of Louis, talking. Louis’ looking up at him, nodding and smiling politely. He looks down for a moment before looking back up through his lashes, and Harry increases his speed. 

“Hello,” he says when he’s close enough. They both turn to look at him. 

The man has a sharp jawline and bold blue eyes. Clearly an alpha, with his solid build and overwhelming scent. It reminds Harry of that time he rode on a motor boat of his holidays, that exhilarating, carefree fun with a hint of danger. It reminds him of a scent omegas should be attracted to. Harry doesn’t like this one bit. 

The alpha smiles at Harry easily. “Hi,” he says. “How’re you?”

“Fine,” Harry says, looking at him with narrowed eyes. 

The alpha laughs good-naturedly. Harry hates him. “I just was wondering what the time was, and your friend was nice enough to give it to me. And we just got to chatting.”

“Uh-huh.” Harry says. 

“It was lovely to meet you, Adam,” Louis says, nodding at him, beaming. 

“You too, Louis.” A pause. “Actually, could I give you my number? You can give me a call if you ever fancy a cup of coffee.”

Louis stands up, still beaming and laughing a little now. He moves the yellow jumper from in front of him to reveal his belly, which Adam’s eyes automatically move down to, looking surprised. 

“I don’t think so, but I do appreciate it,” Louis says. 

“Oh sorry,” Adam says, still smiling. “I didn’t see a mating mark or ring or anything so I just… thought I’d shoot my shot, you know?”

“There isn’t one of either, and I’m glad you did,” Louis says, putting a hand on his belly. “You’ve actually made my day, so thank you.”

“Well... I could give you my number anyway. You seem really cool and—”

“Bye Aaron,” Harry says, wrapping his arm around Louis’ shoulders and leading him away. 

“It’s Adam actu—”

“Uh-huh,” Harry says, and keeps on walking. Once they’re far enough away, Louis giggles a little into his hand. 

“Someone chatted me up,Harry, can you believe it?”

Harry hums. 

“Like actually chatted me up. Was gonna give me his _number_! With my chubby cheeks and in these clothes. He didn’t see my belly at first, but he was flirting! Eight months along and someone chats me up. Even _after_ he saw I was so pregnant, too. Wow.”

“Mhm.”

“Aw,” Louis coos. “It’s alright, Haz, no need to be jealous. You’re still my number one!” He sighs. “Was an ego boost, actually. Nice to know someone likes the way I look, still, even like this.”

 _I like the way you look,_ Harry thinks. But he’s already playing that conversation out in his head and it doesn’t go well. He stays quiet. 

They queue up at the checkout and Louis sort of narrows his eyes at Harry. 

“What’s got you in a huff?”

“Not in a huff,” Harry says. 

“Why won’t you look at me, then?”

Harry takes a breath and looks at a concerned, aggravated Louis. He takes a deeper breath and says, “Sorry, I just— I think I feel a headache coming on.”

“Are you okay?” Louis says, bringing a hand up to his face. His skin feels cool against Harry’s warm forehead. 

“I’m fine. Should probably just have some water or something.”

Louis looks at him hard, looks like he’s about to say something when they’re called forward, and he has to turn away. He puts the jumper down on the conveyor belt and then takes the things from Harry’s hands, looking like he can’t decide if he’s amused or annoyed when he finds the extra button down in the mix. 

Automatically, Harry takes out his wallet and is just about to slide his card into the machine when Louis chuckles and nudges him out of the way, replacing it with his own credit card. Harry frowns at the side of his face, and then he realizes what he was doing. He was just about to pay for Louis’ new clothes. Which is very much _not_ a friend thing. It makes his face feel warmer. 

He feels a deep-seeded confusion as he carries the bag with Louis’ things and they take the tube home. Louis’ talking about all the things he has left to do to set up the baby’s room. Harry listens enough to know he’s been asked to come and help Louis with the last minute things, but everything else is a little fuzzy, occupied with thinking about what his behaviour back there means. 

By the time they get to their building, Harry concedes he has some feelings to work out. For real, this time, he needs to think about them and figure out what’s got him acting this way. 

So when Louis asks if he can come by for a few episodes of Bake Off after he drops his things off, naturally Harry says yes. 

He can worry about his feelings soon. _Tomorrow maybe,_ he thinks. 

They watch a few episodes, Louis makes his usual snide comments about Paul Hollywood and Harry gives his opinions on the bakes and flavours. Louis’ curled up into Harry’s side on his sofa, and doesn’t notice that they’ve both been quiet for a while. Harry assumes they’ve both gotten sucked into the show at a pretty dramatic moment, but after some soft snores, Harry realizes it’s because Louis’ fallen asleep. 

He looks down and can just about see the top of his face. His eyes are closed, and one hand is fisted in Harry’s shirt, snuggled into him. Harry tries not to move too much as he pulls out his mobile. Checking the time, he grimaces when he realizes it’s late, and they should both get to bed before work tomorrow. 

“Louis,” Harry says, gently shaking his arm. Louis doesn’t move. Harry smiles and shakes it again, a little more this time. “Lou.”

Louis wrinkles his noses and breathes in deep before melting back down. 

“Louis, c’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

His nose wrinkles more this time, annoyance creasing his brow as he opens one eye, just a smidge and looks up. When he sees it’s Harry disturbing him, he whines and shuffles down further. “Far,” he huffs. 

Harry feels a lightness in his chest as he tries not to laugh. “Sleeping on the sofa isn’t good for you.”

“Comfy,” is all he offers, sliding his palm up Harry’s chest and grasping at the back of his neck firmly enough that Harry takes it as a final answer, no room for argument. Harry sighs as Louis buries his face into Harry’s chest. He sits and tries not to move as Louis drifts back into sleep. 

He’s right, anyway — it is comfy. Louis’ all soft and warm, belly resting big and beautiful against this hip. Filled up with a little thing that will eventually become a person. It’s daunting to think about. 

It shouldn’t be though, should it? Not to Harry, who’s not related to this not-yet-person by any stretch. It’s not the first time he’s felt disappointed by the thought, but it’s the first time he’s realized that’s what the feeling is. 

Louis shifts, throwing a leg around Harry’s thigh and adjusting himself. Harry feels his hot breath just under his collarbone. He closes his eyes and, before he can think about anything else, he falls asleep. 

***

Waking up the next morning is hard. Sometime in the night, they ended up completely horizontal on the sofa, with Harry’s arm wrapped around Louis’ body and Louis’ legs tangled with his. He’s got a slight crick in his neck —probably from the lack of pillow— but otherwise he’s feeling very comfortable, with Louis warm and lovely on top of him. He wishes he could wake up like this all the time. 

He groggily reaches for his mobile to see what time it is. 

“Shit,” he says loudly. 

Louis jerks his head up, startled. 

“No, sorry, it’s okay,” Harry says, trying to slide himself out from under Louis, which isn’t working too well. “I’m late.”

“What?”

“Work, I’m late.”

“Oh, shit,” Louis says, finally sitting up. 

Harry ends up falling off the edge of the sofa and face planting, but he hasn’t got time to deal with the soreness before he’s up and rushing to his room. He opens the bedroom door and starts stripping immediately, rifling through drawers simultaneously to try and grab something to wear. He hears shuffling just outside, panics briefly, and shuts the door harder than he means to. 

As quick as he can, he pulls everything on, runs a comb through his hair and slides out of the room, careful to shut the door behind him again. 

He’s grabbing his bag and pulling on his spring jacket and slipping on his shoes all at the same time as Louis comes up beside him, yawning and holding out a brown paper bag. 

Harry stops what he’s doing immediately, suddenly no longer feeling like he has to rush as he looks down at it. He smirks at Louis, who’s looking groggy and grumpy. 

“Shut up,” he says, yawning again and shaking the bag. “My maternal instincts are kicking in or whatever.”

He shakes the bag again, urging Harry to take it. When he does, Louis opens the door and slowly shuffles across the hall. Harry locks the door behind him, shoving the brown paper into his bag, and just before Louis goes into his flat, rushes to say, “Thank you, Louis!” 

Louis nods and waves, shutting the door as Harry runs down the stairs. 

He’s half an hour late, but Candace barely glances at him when he comes in. She’s been more tentative around him lately, even after Harry was fairly certain he’d started acting more or less the same as before. 

At lunch time, he almost completely forgets about the brown bag Louis gave him, but he remembers just as he’s about to head over to the cafe for something to tide him over. He takes it out and is grateful that Candace has left the office as he starts unpacking it, mostly because of the big dopey grin on his face. 

There’s a cup of applesauce, a ham and cheese sandwich (sort of, anyway, it’s missing one of the bread slices, and there’s more mustard on the side of the plastic baggie than there is on the food) and a whole head of broccoli. He takes a picture and sends it along with one question mark to Louis, and then starts to eat it happily. 

Five minutes later, his mobile dings.

Louis (1:20pm): _whoops hahahah_

Harry picks up the broccoli, snaps a picture of him aggressively biting into it, and clicks send. A few minutes after that, he gets a photo back of Louis aggressively biting into the middle of a zucchini. _How many servings of veg is this?_ is what comes with it. 

He laughs big and loud at his desk and Candace chooses that exact moment to come in. Harry closes his mouth and tries to stop laughing. 

She just smiles at him and goes back to her desk. 

“Glad to see you happy,” she says. 

He wants to ask what she means by that, but a follow-up text comes in from Louis then, of him taking another big, aggressive bite of carrot, and he has to focus on keeping his laughter quiet. He mostly fails. 

A little later on in the afternoon, he gets another text, asking him to drop by Sainsbury's and pick up a few things. When he sends the list, Harry is half endeared and half disgusted both by what’s on it and his cravings in general. 

He leaves work a little early to run to the shops. He knows he shouldn’t because he came in late, but truth be told, he doesn’t feel the need to care. All of the work that needed to get done, got done, and he’d much rather be with Louis in person to show him his disapproving face at all the things he had to buy. 

***

It’s just a few minutes before 5pm when he knocks on Louis’ door. 

He doesn’t seem at all surprised to see Harry home so early. He’s dressed in navy joggers and the new button down they picked up, grinning wildly at him as he backs up to let Harry in. 

“Alright,” Harry says as he walks in. He heads into the kitchen as Louis locks the door. “I can’t even begin to describe how the woman ahead of me looked as I was waiting to be rung up.”

He sets the tote bags and his work bag down on the counter just as Louis comes into view, still giggling. 

“Was it something like—” he says, and then makes a face full of horror and shock, bringing a hand up to his chest. 

Harry smiles and starts to unpack. “Not quite, but she was definitely… _unsettled.”_

Louis hums and switches his attention to all the things Harry’s putting down on the counter. “Thank you for going, I know it’s not your favourite.”

Harry shrugs noncommittally. He didn’t mind all that much this time. The crowds weren’t too bad, and he just kept picturing the look on Louis’ face when he showed him everything he got. The stuff for pancakes (like Louis said he wanted for dinner) and three different kinds of pickles and some chocolate thing called “buckeyes” that Harry saw and thought Louis would like.

His reactions are great so far, ooo-ing when new things start lining up in front of him. And when Harry pulls out the first jar of pickles, Louis gasps in delight and grabs it straight out of his hands. 

“Oh! You’re the best, Hazza.”

Harry grins and continues to unpack, leaving the ingredients out for pancakes but putting everything else away. 

Louis finally pries the jar open after a couple grueling attempts and rests the jar on top of his belly. His tongue is poking out of his mouth as he digs around in the jar before pulling one out triumphantly. A loud _crunch_ flutters through the room, followed by a moan and a happy sigh. 

A chills runs up Harry’s spine as he says, “I’m surprised you haven’t gotten sick of them yet, you’ve had so many.”

Louis looks offended then, taking another bite of the pickle more aggressively this time. “I could never tire of pickles! They’re crunchy and juicy and satisfy the craving for salt without always eating crisps.” 

He takes another bite while Harry folds the tote bags up and puts them back in his work bag. 

“Plus,” Louis says, “they’re a _vegetable_ which you’re always saying I need to eat more of. So truly, it’s the best snack.”

Harry nods and says, “If only vinegar was one of the daily food groups, you’d be sorted.”

Louis pulls another pickle out of the jar, but doesn’t go to eat it just yet, just looks at it with wide eyes, shaking his head. “Can you believe this talk from him?” he asks the pickle. 

Harry laughs, and the edge of a smile creeps around the corners of Louis’ mouth, but otherwise he keeps in character. 

“The _audacity,”_ he says, “of young Hazza to criticize you like this. After all you provide for me. Sustenance. Craving-control. _Vegetables.”_

Harry watches the side of Louis’ face as he talks to the pickle, wondering if they’ve spent too much time together, since Harry finds this more endearing than odd. 

“Yow know, Mr. Pickle, I think your use has not been fully explored in this kitchen. What do you think? Should we ask Hazza to make you into some ice cream, maybe?”

“I will not,” Harry says resolutely. 

Louis ignores him. “Perhaps some pickle crisps? Best of both worlds for me, innit? Oh! Or maybe some pickle sushi! I can’t have raw fish, but I sure can have raw pickles!”

Harry bursts out laughing and watches Louis crack a bit, too, smiling wide as he looks at Harry and asks, “How ‘bout in the pancakes?”

“No,” Harry says though giggles. 

“Aw, c’mon, pickle pancakes! It’ll be all the rage on the mummy blogs!”

“No,” Harry says again.

“He says no,” Louis says to the pickle conspiratorially, “but you and I both know he’s a slave to my whims in this kitchen. Indulges me constantly! He’ll make you into pancakes, I’m sure of it.”

“I will _not._ I have to draw the line somewhere.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think it’ll be in this flat anytime soon.” Louis shrugs and smirks at him, like he knows for a fact it’s true. Which it probably is, Harry concedes, since he hasn't said no to any of his other requests. 

“I’ve just got a bit more work to do, and then I’ll be in to help,” Louis says (to Harry this time). “The rest of the Mr. and Miss Pickles will keep me company in the meantime.” 

He jiggles the jar, sloshing the pickle juice around inside and giggling when a bit of it splashed onto his hand. He licks it off before leaning over to give Harry a smooch on the cheek. There’s a flutter in his stomach as he watches Louis’ turn around and head out of the kitchen. 

Harry shakes his head, smiling when he hears another _crunching_ sound and feeling so in love he doesn’t even know what to do with himself. 

He turns around and starts to pick up the flour when he realizes, and he goes stiff. 

_What?_ He thinks. _No._

_… in love?_

He can’t be in love with Louis… can he? No. They’re best friends. And Louis is pregnant and going to have a baby, and Harry is going to help, but not in an _in_ _love_ kind of way. 

No, he’s not in love with him, he just loves him. Like friends do. 

Yeah, Harry decides. He just loves him like he loves his other friends. Just a weird brain blip. 

He picks up the flour and starts measuring out his ingredients. But then he stops and puts it down again. He thinks about how he’s been feeling and acting these last few months, about not wanting to think about it. Feeling weird that he didn’t want to think about it…

Holy fuck, he’s in love with Louis. 

He spends several minutes with his brain on a loop of _holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck_ before Louis joins him, and he has to kick himself into gear making the batter. Louis nudges him with his elbow playfully before he turns around to cut up some fresh fruit right beside him. 

He can feel the prickle of his skin as they brush against each other periodically. It feels like Harry’s being lightly zapped, but Louis doesn’t seem to notice. He can’t move away, though, because now that he knows, he can’t bear the thought of putting distance between them. It sort of reminds him of that night when Louis was in depri, about how Harry wanted him so close to keep an eye on him. 

_How_ _long_ has he been in love with Louis for? 

Harry stares at Louis while they eat. Or, well, while Louis eats, because Harry finds he isn’t hungry like he thought he was. He looks at Louis’ eyebrows and his chin and his collarbones. He looks at the wisps of his hair and his ears at the way his nose flares out when he laughs too hard. 

Biting his lip, he wonders when he started thinking Louis had the prettiest earlobes. Like, what kind of thought is that even to have about someone? Earlobes aren’t a thing that can be pretty, they’re just earlobes. 

Except Louis’ have this little curve to them and they look soft. More than anything, Harry wants to lean over and thumb over one of them to feel if that’s true. 

Harry takes a deep breath in and holds it for a few seconds before letting it out. 

“Hazza?” And Harry’s now probably spent too much time just looking at his earlobe. When he looks into the blue of his eyes, he feels his breath catch in his throat. Oh _no._ “Are you okay?” Louis asks. 

His friend, Harry reminds himself. This is his friend. His _best_ friend. He pushes everything else to the side, and only then does he notice how concerned Louis looks. 

“Sorry,” Harry says. “Sorry, I guess I’m a little out of it tonight.” 

Louis’ eyes turn sympathetic as he reaches out a hand to squeeze Harry’s forearm. He feels the hair on his arm stand up at the contact and wonders if Louis feels it too, wonders if Louis thinks it’s weird or if he’s asking himself why that’s happening or realizing what Harry’s feeling. 

“I’ll order delivery from now on,” Louis says. 

Harry blinks at him. “What?”

Louis smiles and pats his arm before pulling back. Harry already misses the warmth of his fingertips on his skin. “I think the store was too much for you today, so I’ll just have the groceries delivered from now on.”

“Oh,” Harry says. Then he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “No, honestly, it’s no problem.”

“Harry,” Louis laughs. God it sounds like music. Harry’s name from Louis’ lips is… The pitch is just perfect and it’s like it’s got its own melody and… “You already do too much for me. Please, it’s no bother at all. Plus, I can add and remove things at any time, which means there’s less of a chance to disgust you with my cravings for a turnip, strawberry, and cherry juice smoothie.”

He can’t help but laugh at that, and that smooths out the lines in Louis’ forehead. 

After they’ve eaten, they curl up on Louis’ sofa together and Harry is more aware than he’s ever been of the placement of their bodies. Harry’s lying along the long piece of the sectional, with Louis pressed right up against his left side, head on his chest with Harry’s arm draped over him. There’s a little sliver of skin just beneath where Harry’s hand is resting on Louis’ t-shirt, and he so badly wants to touch it, to touch a more intimate place than their hands and arms. Harry scolds himself at that thought, feeling instantly guilty for it. Even goes as far as to tug down the shirt so his hand doesn’t get any ideas. 

“Your heart’s beating really fast,” Louis says sleepily, which causes Harry’s heart to beat even faster; that Louis might _know_. That he might know and kick Harry out and say he needs space. “T’much sugar?”

“Hm?”

“Too much sugar? For dinner?”

“Oh. Maybe.”

“Hm,” Louis hums thoughtfully. “D’you want a pickle?”

Harry chuckles. 

Louis halfheartedly smacks his chest and then goes rooting around until he grabs hold of Harry’s wrist, bringing it so that it rests below Louis’ chin. “Salt. Balances the sweetness,” is his way of explaining that. He pecks Harry’s palm quickly as he cuddles back down. “Can we sleep here?”

“Yeah,” Harry says softly. “Of course.” 

Harry thinks he should feel guilty, feeling like he’s tricked his way into spending the night or something, but all he feels is peace as he falls asleep. 


	10. Chapter 10

It turns out, knowing he’s in love with Louis is much worse than not knowing he’s in love with Louis. It’s no wonder he kept it from himself all this time. 

He notices everything about Louis now. Or maybe he was already noticing everything, but now he’s aware of what it means. The crinkle of his eyes, the way he caresses his belly, how he subconsciously reaches out for touch every chance he gets. 

The next time he’s getting off, he starts thinking of faceless _Alpha,_ but pauses and shifts to thinking about Louis. About the way Louis touches, about the barely-there kiss all those weeks ago, about how softly he looks at him. 

And it’s almost scary how quickly faceless _Alpha_ fades into _Louis_. _Louis_ stroking up his sides, _Louis_ panting against his neck, _Louis_ moving his fist in measured strokes up and down his cock. He comes to fantasy _Louis_ saying, _Come for me,_ imagining their mouths crashing together. 

Afterwards, panting hard, he’s faced with more questions, the main one being _just because he can picture Louis doing those things, does it mean he actually wants him like that?_

Everytime Harry even thinks about trying to tell him, he freezes up. On two separate occasions, he’d looked at him and held his breath for so long that Louis had to nudge him and pretend he was looking for a pulse. The first time it was funny, the second time less-so, and Harry imagines Louis’ going to start asking questions if it happens again, so he decides to just not tell him. 

Louis’ 34 weeks pregnant now, anyway, and it would be a terrible time to bring it up. He’s finishing up all his projects at work before he goes on maternity leave and he’s busy getting the nursery all set up. And even after his baby shower the day before, Harry can tell he’s still worried about not having the urge to nest, so he distracts him as best he can. 

Right now, they’re playing video games. Some racing game that Harry didn’t know how to play, and one he’s losing at, but just barely. He curses under his breath and he rounds the corner, raising his arms like that’s going to help at all. Louis laughs at him and Harry is frustrated, but also happy that Louis is happy. It’s complicated. 

Harry’s movements get more exaggerated as they enter into the final lap. He’s on the edge of the sofa, leaning forward onto his toes and nearly bent in half. His heart is pounding and he’s focusing so hard on his own little car that he hardly notices Louis’ car bump into a barrier and get stuck. He edges forward and slips right across the finish line. 

_First!_ splashes across his side of the screen and Harry jumps up, throwing his hands in the air, still holding the controller, and starting to dance. 

He looks at Louis, who’s leaning back against the long part of the sectional and grinning ruefully. 

“I won! Take that, Tomlinson.” He’s still dancing to the background video game ending credit music. 

Louis laughs. “Alright, Styles, alright no need to be a sore winner.”

“Not a sore winner, just a _winner_.”

“Hey, _just a winner_ , you wanna help me up?”

Harry continues to dance, but he slows a little to offer his hands. Louis takes them and they work together to help Louis stand. After he’s solid on his feet, Harry keeps hold of one of his hands and twirls himself around under it. 

“I won, you lost,” he sing-songs softly. 

“What was that about you not being a sore winner?” Louis asks. “Anyway, my hand slipped. I was in the lead the whole time, I definitely would have won.”

“Sorry? Is that you being a sore loser I hear?”

Louis rolls his eyes and shoves at him playfully. “C’mon, you promised to help me fold all the onesies from the baby shower.” 

“Alright, let’s go. This winning energy can go anywhere.”

“Oh my god, shut _up,”_ he says, gently pushing Harry along and into the nursery where a pile of freshly-decorated and freshly-washed onesies are waiting for them on top of the cot mattress, along with a smattering of gifts around the room from friends and family. 

Immediately, Louis gets distracted as he picks up the first one, hand-painted by Zayn with a beautifully layered sunset and the words _Don’t fuck with me_ in curvy letters at the top. “I still can’t believe he cursed at my baby.”

“Technically, he cursed _for_ the baby.”

Harry picks one up and Louis immediately coos and reaches out for it. Harry hands it over and Louis holds it up to look at it, passing Zayn’s one to Harry to fold. 

He turns it around and lays it on his belly so Harry can see. “Can you cope?” he says, and then sticks his bottom lip out in a pout. This one was done by Liam, and it’s got a few peanuts drawn on it with the words _Little Peanut_ underneath. 

Harry reaches for another one, but Louis just gasps and takes it from him, passing along the peanut one. This one doesn’t have any drawings, since Lily was adamant she’d just ruin one if she tried, but it says _The Snuggle Is Real_ and has Louis looking all doe-eyed at it.

“You saw all of these yesterday, remember?”

“I did,” Louis agrees, and continues to beam at the little bit of clothing. “But there were so many yesterday I didn’t get to appreciate them one at a time.”

Instead of going for another in the pile, Harry waits for Louis to pass that one to him as he picks up another one. The next one is Niall’s, and it says _Shites and Giggles_ with a little laughing poop emoji off to the side. It gets a fond laugh mixed with a groan and he’s moving onto the next ones, some done by a couple of coworkers and some done by family, with baby farm animals or fruits on them. He spends a long time looking at each before passing it onto Harry, who in turn spends a long time just looking at Louis because he can and because it’s nice. 

“Ah now, see, but this is my favourite,” Louis says, picking up one of the last ones in the pile. He turns it around to let Harry see his own design, a large pickle with pink cheeks, smiling and the words _I’m kind of a big dill_ beside it. Louis flips it back around to smile at it. 

Harry sighs dreamily as he catalogues the sweeping of Louis’ eyelashes against his cheekbones and the way he licks his lips and how gentle his hands are holding the onesie, like it’s precious.

“Sorry,” Louis says, passing it along to Harry. 

“For what?”

“For holding you up.”

“You could never,” Harry says honestly, even if it doesn’t really make sense. 

Louis reaches out to squeeze his shoulder and then lets his hand skim down his arm as he reaches for another one. “I love these all so much. Love my baby so much,” he says. “Finally feels like this is real, you know?”

Harry takes a little longer folding his own decorated onesie, caught up in thinking about what it’ll look like on little love, in Louis’ arms, what that’ll mean and what it definitely won’t mean. 

“What if I’m not good enough for them?”

Harry whips his head up so fast he feels a little dizzy. Louis’ smoothing out the onesie along his bump and looks close to tears. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Harry says, putting the onesie down and reaching out to pull him in for a hug. “I thought we talked about this, you’re going to be a great papa.”

It makes Louis sob, just once before he shakes his head and clutches onto Harry, stretching his shirt across his shoulders as he pulls him closer, harder. It’s quiet for a moment and Harry just rubs his back, relaxes into the feeling of being able to comfort Louis like this for a bit. 

“It’s just going to be me,” he mumbles softly into Harry’s shoulder. “And I always liked that it was just me, but what if that’s not enough? I read about how some single omegas need to hire alpha nannies because their babies get, like, deprived of those pheromones and don’t bond the way they’re supposed to.” 

“Where did you read that?” Harry asks. 

“A mummy blog.”

“Was it the same one that said the nursery needed to have alpha and omega scents or the baby would be delayed in presenting as a teen?”

A pause. “Maybe.”

Harry lets out a laugh that’s a sigh. “Oh, Louis, it’s going to be okay.”

“What if she was right though? What if little love ends up deprived of pheromones and doesn’t bond with me because there isn’t an alpha around to make them feel safe?”

Harry feels the pain in his words and holds him tighter, wishes there was something he could do to stop it. So he does his best with the words he has. 

“ _You_ are going to make little love feel safe,” Harry says resolutely. “And if a _doctor_ tells you that they need alpha pheromones, then we invite Liam over more often." Harry's heart skips a beat when he realizes his choice of pronoun. "Or you do hire an alpha nanny, if it makes sense to do so.”

He breathes in deep and feels Louis sniffle. Louis smells like a sleepover with a friend, staying up too late because you’re both having too much fun to stop talking. 

“You are _enough_ ,” he says with as much sincerity and passion as he can because he means it, more than he’s meant anything else in his life. “You are.”

Louis pulls him closer still and cries for another minute. Harry holds him through it until Louis pulls his head up and slides his hands up the front of Harry’s shirt and holds onto his face. Harry feels like an electric current passes through his body as he feels every hair stand up against his skin. He feels a few kicks against his abdomen where Louis’ belly is pressed against him. Louis giggles at it. 

“Hazza, what would I do without you?” he asks, looking so soft and vulnerable. Harry’s lips start to tingle and he wants so, _so_ badly to lean forward and connect their mouths. It would barely take any movement to do so. He wonders if Louis would taste like the hot cocoa they had an hour ago. 

Harry slides his hands up Louis’ arms and gently squeezes his wrists before pulling them down and away from his face. Louis blinks, a little dazed, as Harry smiles at him and says, “I’ll always be here for you,” and kisses the back of one of his hands still in his hold. 

Louis looks down, sniffles once more and he just blinks for a long moment at their hands between them. Then he gives Harry a strained, watery smile and nods. “You’re the best.”

“Well, I am a winner,” Harry says. And that gets a real laugh out of him. 

Louis finally pulls away and wipes his face. Harry can feel wet patches on his shirt from his tears. “All this crying has made me hungry,” Louis says, looking at his feet. 

“Loser’s choice for dinner. What are you craving?”

Louis wipes his face some more. “How ‘bout some soup? So you can blend as many veggies in as you can and I can put too much cheese on it to hide them.”

“You’ve got it.” 

Harry moves around him to heave to the kitchen and start getting everything ready. 

“You want a snack while you wait?” Harry says from the doorway.

Louis wipes his eyes again and tries to smile through the tears. “Maybe. I’m just going to finish setting up the swing first, I think. I’ll come out after.”

“Okay,” Harry says. 

He watches Louis turn around and waddle over to pieces of the little automated baby swing on top of the changing table, which just needs final assembly. He braces himself against the edge for a moment and drops his head down. Harry is about to ask if he’s in pain when Louis shakes his head and reaches for a piece of the swing. Harry rubs a hand up and down on the doorframe before turning around and walking to the kitchen. 

Harry’s just setting the pot to simmer when Louis comes out of the nursery. 

“Ah, bugger,” Louis says when he’s in the kitchen entryway. 

“What, what’s wrong?”

“No, no,” Louis says, shaking his head. He turns and walks over to the closet and Harry walks to the entryway to watch him. “Nothing’s wrong, just forgot something.”

Louis reaches up and Harry immediately rushes over to him to get a box down. “Thank you,” he says. He nods at the box in Harry’s hand and smiles wide. “That’s for you.”

Harry looks down at it, tips it up so he can see what the package says it is. “A new pot?”

“Yes! This one is nonstick and has some new technology that helps the temperature stay even all the way around for a long time. So it’s like a warmer, as well.”

“Oh wow,” Harry says, reading the side of the box that says something to the same effect. “I’ve seen adverts for this. This is great, Louis, thank you. These are expensive though, aren’t they?”

“Nah, not too bad. Plus, I got a bonus at work, basically since they didn’t want to give me a raise while I’ll be on maternity leave.” He rolls his eyes. 

“You spent your bonus on me?”

“No,” Louis says. “I’m just saying it wasn’t a bother. And I saw it and wanted you to have it.” He shrugs. “Although, I should have given it to you earlier. We could have tested it out with the soup.”

Harry taps the box with his fingertips. “Thank you. This is too nice.”

“It is _not_ ,” Louis says in a playful huff, “especially with all the cooking you do for me.”

“So… it’s really a present for you?”

“Exactly.”

“I’ll keep it here then,” Harry says, smiling. “We can use it next time.” 

Louis looks a bit dismayed at that. “What? No, it’s yours, it should be with you.”

“Just because it’s here doesn’t mean it’s not mine,” Harry says. “I’m here about half the time anyway.”

Louis looks skeptical, but rubs his belly absently as he says, “I suppose.”

Harry’s mouth pulls to the side before he decides, “Well, I’ll take it back to mine and I can always bring it over when we need it.”

That seems to satisfy Louis enough that he smiles and nods. “How much longer on the soup?”

“Probably another thirty at least. I already cut up some cheese and apple slices to tide you over. Go sit down, I’ll bring it over.”

“That’s _exactly_ what I want, how do you _do_ that.” 

Harry shrugs and grins. “I’m used to all your patterns by now. In food and in video games.”

“Yeah, yeah, keep up the smack talk, Hazza. We’ll see who’s laughing in round two.”

***

A couple of weeks later, Harry gets a text mid-week that has him smiling and curious.

Louis (3:30pm): _i have a surprise for you tonight!_

Harry (3:32pm): _What is it?_

Louis (3:36pm): _wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you_

Harry (3:37pm): _Yeah, but you’re shit at secrets. Tell meeeeeeeeeee_

Louis (3:44pm): _fuck you i’m great at secrets. i just happen to share stuff with you. and you’ll shut your face if you want that to continue._

Harry (3:45pm): 🤐

Louis (3:45pm): _absolutely right._

Louis (3:46pm): _don’t come over until i text_

Harry (3:47pm): 🤫

Harry gets home, and for the first time in at least a month doesn’t go straight over to Louis’ flat. He waits as he’s told. And he waits. And waits. 

After an hour he gets concerned and goes to his door with the intention of just listening to see if he can hear anything through the two meters of space between their flats, when he hears the distant sound of a smoke alarm going off. Harry cracks his door open, only to confirm it’s coming from Louis’ flat. 

Harry immediately closes the door behind him as he runs over. He knocks. Knocks again. Knocks louder this time. And when there’s still no answer, gets his mobile out to call 999. As he’s about to press the call button, the door opens to reveal a crying Louis and immediately, Harry throws his arms around him and pulls him in close. 

“Thank god,” he whispers. Then, noticing smoke behind him asks, “What happened?” as he lets go and rushes into the kitchen, where smoke is billowing from the open oven door.

Harry closes the oven to stop the smoke from pouring out and turns it off.

“Go to mine,” Harry says to Louis. “It’s not good for you to breathe this in.”

He doesn’t check to see that he listens, just goes to open as many windows as he can to help usher the smoke out of the flat. He coughs after accidentally inhaling some of it when turning around and spends thirty seconds trying to get it out of his lungs. After that he goes to the kitchen to check what the damage is. 

It looks like there’s a tray of two big lumps, burnt to a crisp, and a pot of water that’s boiled over. Besides the kitchen towel on the ground and oven mitts that look like they’ve been thrown on the counter, everything else looks as it should. Harry sighs, grabs Louis’ keys from where they’re hanging up before locking the door and going back to his flat. 

The door is unlocked, as he left it. There’s no noise at all, which ought to make Harry worried, but it just makes him feel tentative and sad. He sighs and carefully makes his way to the living room and finds Louis sitting with tear tracks on his face staring blankly at the wall. 

Harry kneels down in front of him and places a hand on his knee. “Louis…”

“I swear, I never cry this much normally,” Louis says, voice gravelly, “it’s just all the hormones.”

“You can cry as much as you’d like.”

Louis closes his eyes and fresh tears run down his cheeks. “I just wanted to do something nice.”

Harry nods, even though Louis’ not looking at him. “What happened?” he asks as softly as he can. 

Louis tries to speak and ends up letting out a destroyed sound instead, which then causes more tears. “Ugh,” he groans, “I just want to get through a week without crying all over your sofa.”

“A couple of weeks ago you cried in the nursery instead,” Harry offers. And Louis opens his eyes to glare at him. “Sorry. Not the point. Take your time.”

Louis wipes his face with his sleeves and sighs. “I was trying to make dinner. You always make dinner. And breakfast. And lunch on the weekends. And I pack you a lunch sometimes but it’s not the same. I wanted to do something nice, called me mum up for a recipe and I had everything printed out and I was so _careful_ with everything.” He shakes his head and looks up at the ceiling. 

Harry rubs Louis’ knee in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. 

“It was looking so good, it just needed a bit more in the oven to crisp up. So I turned it up and I thought I set a timer, but I guess I didn’t and then I fell asleep and woke up to the alarm going off and I didn’t know what to do so I tried to take it out of the oven but everything was still so smokey and then you knocked.”

“It’s okay,” Harry says when he sees more tears. “Louis that was so nice of you, it’s okay.”

“I ruined it,” he says miserably. 

“The fact that you even wanted to make me dinner says so much,” Harry says. _I wish it meant more_ , he thinks selfishly, but quickly shakes himself out of that train of thought. “You did something lovely, so lovely, and just because it didn’t turn out doesn’t mean it wasn’t.”

Louis still looks like someone told him he could never eat pickles again and Harry can’t help but laugh. It makes Louis look at him, really this time. 

“No one has ever made a meal for me. Do you know that? No one’s even _tried_. And you pack me a lunch on half of my workdays. Sometimes they’re even _good_ lunches _._ ”

Louis presses his lips together tightly as he flicks his shoulder. 

“Ow,” Harry says, capturing his hand and laughing, which makes Louis smile a little. “You wanted to do that for me, Louis, and that’s big. That means so much.”

Louis stares at him for several moments, like he’s just realized something, eyebrows going up and mouth dropping down. But before Harry can wonder what it could be, Louis pulls his face back to neutral and looks off to the side. He nods and pats the hand still holding onto his knee. 

“Do you want to try and make it together?” Harry asks. “I can pop down to the store and get the ingredients again if you give me the list.”

“No,” Louis says immediately. “No that’s okay. I’ll just— let’s just order something. I can’t look at an oven again tonight.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Harry says. “Chinese?”

“No, I’m sick of Chinese.”

“You? Sick of Chinese food? Who are you and what have you done with my Boo Bear?”

Louis groans. “I now regret leaving you and my mum to chat alone at the baby shower.”

“C’mon, we both know you regretted that as soon as it happened.”

“She’s called me three times this week asking for your email to send you some Black Forest cake recipe. Mad woman.”

Harry gasps. “Louis, please give her my email immediately, I need that recipe.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Never should have introduced you. You’ll both like each other better than me now.” 

“Never,” Harry says, because it’s true. He kisses the inside of the wrist he’s still holding before standing up. “Pizza?” he suggests. 

“Thai?” Louis counters.

“Panang curry?”

“Basil fried rice,” Louis says with a squeeze of Harry’s hand and a bashful grin. “You know curry doesn’t taste as good if you’re not making it.”

“I do know that,” Harry says. He almost asks if Louis wants him to make it for him instead of ordering a takeaway, but he decides against it. Louis’ always been good at telling Harry what he wants, and he’s sure he’d say if that was it. 


	11. Chapter 11

It’s Saturday afternoon in the middle of May, only a week away from Louis’ due date, and they’re napping on Harry’s sofa, as has been their tradition for a couple of months now. Trying to nap, anyway. Harry wakes up when Louis shifts again, adjusting his body so that one leg is under and one is over Harry’s leg. 

“You okay?” Harry asks, peaking an eye open to look down at where Louis is snuggled into his side. 

“Can’t get comfortable,” Louis says, trying to shift himself again. He huffs and then whines. “This baby makes me so tired and then won’t let me sleep.”

Harry smiles and rubs his arm. “Let me get a pillow, see if it’ll cradle your hips better.”

Louis yawns. “Yeah, okay.”

Carefully, they both start to sit up. It takes a little bit of maneuvering but they make it happen until Harry can stand. He turns around to help Louis lay back when he shakes his head. 

“I’ll try some of those yoga poses, see if that helps,” he says. 

Harry nods and helps him stand instead. “Just the standing ones until I’m back to spot you, okay?” he says and heads towards his bedroom. 

He opens the door just enough to let himself in and then closes it most of the way behind him, moving over to his closet to grab one of the extra pillows he has for when his mum or sister come to stay. He’s reaching up on the shelf for it when he hears Louis from the other room.

“Actually, Harry, I know it’s not totally appropriate,” he says, his voice getting closer. Harry nearly slips trying to turn around quickly and rush to the door. But it’s too late, Louis’ pushing it open and still talking. “Could we sleep on your bed today in… stead…”

Harry’s heart is going wild. He picks up the pillow quickly from where it fell and says, “Got the pillow,” much too loudly. 

Louis is looking at Harry’s bed. Still looking, eyes zoned right in on the layers of pillows and blankets and clothes. Louis’ clothes. Louis’ clothes that he was going to wash and give back but never did. 

“Um,” Harry says. His mind is blank. There are no words to explain why Louis’ clothes are here at all. He feels his cheeks heat up and his heart continues to race. 

Louis finally looks at him, mildly shocked as he says, “Is that my new yellow jumper?”

Harry knows it is, but he looks over at his bed anyway, flustered and trying to buy himself time to come up with an explanation. All his brain can tell him is that it smelled too good to leave on Louis’ kitchen counter after he took it off the other night. Smelled like hiking at sunrise with someone who knows how to get to the most beautiful view. 

“Um,” Harry says again. 

“That’s my white hoodie,” Louis says, more sure now, nodding at the same jumper Louis was wearing on Harry’s first game night, the night Louis took it off as they baked cupcakes together. “I thought I’d lost that months ago. And the shirt I spilled juice on after my third ultrasound. And the ratty tracksuit bottoms you said you’d throw out for me.”

“This is a nest,” Louis says, both like it’s a surprise and like it’s not. 

Harry’s face and neck feel like they're on fire. He clutches the pillow tightly in his fists and looks at the ground. 

“Um.”

“Harry,” Louis says, placing both hands on his rounded belly. “Did you make this for us?”

Harry swallows and looks at his bed again, at the layers of forgotten maternity clothes threaded between Harry’s pillows and blankets. Their scents mixing together, the reason he hasn't washed the clothes… it’s because he was surrounding himself with Louis’ scent. And his scent kept changing, little by little, smelled so much better the farther along he got, as he was growing and carrying their baby, smelled so good, so nice and safe...

Fuck. 

It’s like the thought slaps him across the face, knocking everything into place. He’s been thinking of the baby as _their_ baby. He’s been _nesting_ because subconsciously he’s been preparing for _their_ baby. Except it’s not _their_ baby. 

He’s mortified.

He looks back at Louis, hears his own voice crack as he says, “I didn’t know.” And then back at the clothes and back to Louis. “I’m so sorry. Oh fuck, Louis, Christ I swear I didn’t, I wasn’t—”

“Can we go in?” Louis asks, calm as anything. 

“What?” Harry asks, breathing heavily. 

“Am I allowed in the nest you built?”

A shiver zings up Harry’s spine. He’s acknowledging that Harry made a nest for his unborn baby and he doesn’t look angry or weirded out or anything. 

Harry nods tentatively, and Louis smiles at him, holding out his hand for Harry. 

“Oh,” Harry falters. “You want me…?”

“Of course I do,” Louis says simply, still holding out his hand. Harry sets the pillow down leaning against the wall.

Closing the distance, Harry gives his hand and feels the squeeze Louis gives it. They do have to break apart in order to get onto the bed, Harry helping Louis up first. Then Louis maneuvers them so Louis’ on the inside against the wall where the bulk of the clothes are, and Harry lays beside him. 

They face each other, lying on their sides, and Harry immediately feels the same calm he has every night now for months. He shuts his eyes tight and tries not to let the embarrassment consume him. 

“Shh,” Louis says soothingly, like he can feel it. Maybe he can. He grabs one of Harry’s hands, intertwining their fingers and holding them to his chest. “Harry it’s okay.”

Harry opens his eyes, starts to feel tears prickle there and his breath catches in his throat as he tries to breathe. His voice comes out a little shrill when he says, “I didn’t—”

“Shh,” Louis says again, quieter this time. He rubs his thumb back and forth over the top of Harry’s hand. Then he just looks at him. There’s a softness in his features that hits Harry square in the chest. He feels a tear slide down his face, so he turns and buries it in his pillows so he can’t see anything. 

Maybe he’ll just disappear and won’t have to deal with the repercussions of this. If he disappears, he won’t have to listen to Louis tell him that this is sweet, but a little weird, and that he needs to give back all of Louis’ clothes now. The thought alone forces another sob out of his throat and more tears to flood down his cheeks. 

“Shh,” Louis says again, scooching even closer to him on the bed and laying his other arm over Harry’s side to hold him in a sort of hug. Harry can’t help but squeeze his hand tightly. 

“It’s weird, I’m sorry,” he cries into the pillow. “I didn’t know, I’m so sorry.”

“Hazza, honey, can you look at me?”

Harry shakes his head, keeping it buried in the pillow. 

“Okay, that’s okay,” Louis says. He moves the hand around Harry’s back between his shoulder blades and starts to move it in gentle, slow circles. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Especially with me, not ever. You know that, right?”

Harry sniffles, feels more tears, nods his head. 

“I’m not angry,” he says quietly. “I’m not upset or anything like that. I— I love it, Harry.”

Harry stops crying for a moment. He swallows. “What?” he asks into the pillow. 

“I love it so much,” Louis says, like it’s a confession. “You made this for us. It’s beautiful.”

Harry peaks one eye out to look at Louis. He’s a watery blur until Harry blinks the tear down his face. Louis is looking at him, soft and waiting and vulnerable. 

“I have to tell you something,” Louis says. He looks uneasy, and then leans forward to kiss Harry’s temple before pulling back. “And I would like to see your face when I do it, but it’s okay if you don’t want to.”

 _Here it comes,_ Harry thinks. Louis will tell him that this can’t go on. That it was lovely but it’s not something he can keep on doing. That he loves Harry but not the same way that this whole thing shows how Harry loves him. His breath catches in his throat again at the thought. 

He has to pull it together. Louis can’t know how much this is going to hurt him. It’s not fair to him, to see Harry heartbroken when he’s so close to giving birth, doesn’t need that stress. And after the baby is born he’ll need Harry more than ever, and he needs to know he can count on him to not let his emotions get in the way of helping. Because he does, he wants to help and provide and be there for Louis anyway he can, anyway Louis will let him. 

So he takes a deep breath in to steady himself. He pushes his own feelings away, tries to block them out to prepare. _It’ll be okay,_ he thinks. _Everything will be okay._

He lets out a shaky breath, finally turning his head towards Louis again and a few seconds later, opens his eyes. Louis looks nervous and a little sad. Harry nods and braces himself. 

“I’ve been courting you,” isn’t something he was prepared to hear Louis say. “I think so, anyway,” he continues. “I didn’t realize until a few days ago, after I tried to make you dinner, but I’m pretty sure I’ve been courting you for months now.”

Harry’s tears have stopped, sadness overshadowed by confusion. “What?”

Louis shuts his eyes tight for a moment and then opens them again, looking even more vulnerable than he did before. “Leaving my clothing around your flat, buying you that new fancy pot, trying to learn some recipes to make things for you. I even tried to hand-knit a blanket, but the stitches ended up all wrong, so there’s just a bin full of unspooled yarn under my bed now.” 

Louis sighs. “I’ve had such a crush on you for ages now, and because I’ve been trying to hide it, I think my inner omega was trying to show you in other ways instead of just being a grown-up and telling you.” He groans and rolls his eyes. “I’m about to have a baby for fuck’s sake and I couldn’t even tell my best friend I’ve had feelings for him for practically forever now. What example am I going to be for little love like this?”

Harry’s brain is still trying to process _I’ve been courting you_ so he almost misses the rest of it and the way Louis starts to untangle himself from Harry in order to hide his face. Harry holds onto his hand tighter and finally brings his other arm around Louis in order to splay his hand across Louis’ back. 

Louis looks at him tentatively, biting the inside of his cheek. 

“Louis… Louis, I…” Harry shakes his head and starts to feel the tears again. 

“I know,” Louis says quickly. “I swear, Harry, I know, it’s okay that you don’t feel the same.” He’s nodding, but there’s a glassy quality to his eyes. He pulls Harry closer to him and rubs his back comfortingly. “I just wanted to let you know that you don’t have to be embarrassed about this nest. This gorgeous, lovely, _amazing_ nest. This is your way of saying you love us and I’m so, _so_ grateful for that. I’d never ask anything more than that from you, I wouldn’t, please know that.” 

He’s crying now, really crying, even though Harry can tell he’s trying to hold it back. 

“I love you so much,” Louis whispers, closing his eyes, pushing a few tears out as he does. “You’re the absolute best thing that’s happened to me, apart from little love, and I promise my feelings aren’t going to get in the way of our friendship.”

Harry sniffles and whispers, “Mine will.”

Louis looks pained now, eyes still closed. He rolls his lips in and looks like he’s trying to keep sound from coming out. “Okay,” he says, sounding defeated. 

Harry’s shaking his head. “No… _Louis_ ,” he breathes out, pleading. He just can’t find the words to say what he’s feeling. 

When Louis opens his eyes, Harry’s already leaning forward, looking at Louis’ mouth, then up to his eyes. Louis inhales quickly in the space between their lips as their noses touch. There’s nerves and understanding and confusion and so many other little things that seem to spark and then dissipate as their mouths meet, eyes locked and connected as they do. 

It’s short, lasts only half a second before Harry pulls back, worried and unsure again with his lips tingling like they did the first time. 

Louis looks down at his mouth quickly before leaning in, just as gentle and pressing against him for another second. 

The sound of their breathing fills the whole room, it feels like, as Louis’ hand moves up Harry’s back and neck carefully before threading through the hair at the back of his head. Harry’s hand moves up too until it holds the back of Louis’ neck, gently but somewhat possessively, which makes Louis gasp louder this time and rush to kiss him again, longer and deeper. 

It’s bliss. Kissing has never felt like this for Harry before. Louis kisses with such care and passion, like it’s giving him life as he does it. Harry feels almost starstruck as it happens, feeling clumsy as he hurries to give back the same. 

After a minute, Louis pulls away and laughs against Harry’s cheek, giving quick little kisses there and nuzzling into his skin. “I thought you’d hate me for putting you in that position,” he says. “I thought you wouldn’t want any of this.”

“Any of what?” Harry asks, nuzzling Louis’ skin, too. 

Louis sighs deeply and tilts his head back, not answering, and Harry realizes it’s because he’s started to scent Louis. He pulls back abruptly. 

“Sorry!” he says, and Louis just shakes his head, pulling Harry’s back to him and lengthening his neck to give Harry more space. 

“Please,” Louis says, “I’ve wanted you to scent me since that night I was in depri.” 

Harry groans a little at that and starts up his scenting again, fully aware of what he’s doing this time. Louis’ skin feels so warm and inviting against the tip of his cold nose. Louis almost immediately lets go of all the tension in his body, going pliant and still. 

Without thinking about it, Harry opens his mouth and licks at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, where his mating mark would go, before kissing there. He pulls away to see the shininess of his saliva before doing it again, making it messier this time with just the slight graze of teeth over the skin. 

It makes Louis moan long and low before he cuts himself off with a squeak, like he’s embarrassed. Harry feels a thrill run up his spine, so he does it again, pressing his teeth against the skin and sucking lightly. Louis moans again and there’s a shift in the air, a new scent that Harry vaguely recognizes. It takes him a beat before he realizes he’s smelling Louis’ slick. He’s making Louis _wet._

Louis stutters, it feels like he’s going to explain, or maybe apologize, so Harry just breathes out against his skin before holding onto his neck tighter, nibbling and licking a broader stripe up his neck. 

The smell of more slick permeates around them and Harry finds he’s breathing hard now, feeling something spark inside of him, a zip up his spine and tension in his groin, the same way he feels when he’s turned on during his wanks. It’s something he’s never felt like this, with another person, _about_ another person in the moment. And another scent starts to come through… his own slick. 

_Oh,_ he thinks. “Oh my god,” he slurs into Louis’ neck at the same moment he realizes it. “ _I want you._ ”

Louis cries out, gripping the back of Harry’s head and pulling him in closer to his neck, crushing his open mouth right against Louis’ mating spot so his teeth are pressed tight against it. 

“Fuck,” Louis chokes out and Harry feels the bump of his belly roll into him. Louis’ trying to hump him, but his belly is in the way in this position. 

Harry is overwhelmed, to say the least, and it’s like he doesn’t even have control of his body anymore as his hand skates down Louis’ back, slips under his joggers, and into the top of his pants. The mere suggestion of it is clearly enough for Louis, who throws his head back with a choked off groan.

“Fuck,” he whines. Harry’s just starting to feel incredibly smug when he says, “Ow, _ow_ fuck.”

Harry pulls back to look at him just as Louis’ hands move to wrap around his belly. 

“What happened, what did I do wrong?” Harry says. 

“Oh my god, _ow,”_ Louis says again instead of answering. His whole body goes rigid for several seconds before he relaxes. “What the _fuck_.” 

“Are you…” Harry starts, stops, and tries again. “Do you think that was a contraction?”

“What, fuck no.” Louis says. But then he stares unseeingly at a point over Harry’s shoulder. “Holy shit. Was it? Am I starting contractions?” He makes eye-contact with Harry again. “Fuck, I’m not ready.”

Harry just nods and starts to sit up, heart pounding in his chest as a wave of adrenaline courses through him. He gently pulls Louis up so he’s sitting on the bed. 

“Okay,” Louis says to himself. “I’m okay, we’re okay. Where’s my hospital bag?” 

“In your front closet.”

“Right, of course.” He rubs his belly, eyes wide and staring at the carpet. 

“Breathe,” Harry says gently, rubbing up and down his arm. He hopes it’s soothing. He’s a little disoriented from switching feelings so quickly. They’ve both still got tear tracks down their faces, actually. He can still smell slick lingering around them. “Let’s just see if you have any more. Just breathe.”

Louis breathes deep like he’s been practicing and that seems to work on calming him down a bit. He nods and starts to stand up. 

“Where’re you going?”

“Gotta go get my bag. I don’t think I packed enough blankets for little love.”

“You did, you packed three.”

“What if three’s not enough? I have to make sure. I have to do something.”

Harry stops him once he’s out of the room. “We can do something,” he says. “Let’s play a game.”

For a moment, it looks like Louis is going to argue, but then he pauses and switches course from the front door to the sitting room and sits down on the sofa with Harry’s help. They play UNO for long enough with no more contractions that Harry thinks that it was just a Braxton Hicks, a one-off of his body trying to prepare him for labour. But then Louis makes a pained face when Harry places down a card that seems like it hurts more than a Draw Four card would warrant. 

He breathes through it, clutching onto Harry as he does and then he relaxes. They play two full games before Louis decides it’s time to call the doctor. Harry had sent a text before as a general preparation, but he calls Lily now so she and Niall can pick them up in their car to take them to the hospital. 

They arrive twenty minutes later. 

“I hear we’ve got a _baby_ coming,” Niall says after Harry opens the door. 

Louis lets out a pained huff from the living room.

“And we’re in _pain_ about it.”

“Niall, oh my god, shut _up_.” Lily looks like she could smack him upside the head, but she doesn’t. Niall looks like he realizes because he just smiles big at her.

“Right, sorry dear.”

Niall and Lily both go to him and help him up. 

“Did someone call Liam and Zayn?” Louis asks. “They should know.”

“I did,” Lily says, “Harry asked me to. And he also asked us to pick up a Lucozade for you; it’s in the car.”

“Oh I love you,” he says, looking right into Harry’s eyes as they make their way to the door. It feels like it means something different. His heart flutters as he realizes it _does._

“Oi,” Niall laughs, “we’re the ones who got it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” Louis says. He holds onto his belly and winces. “I gotta get my bag.”

“I’ve got it,” Harry says. He picks it up and hauls it up over his shoulder. 

Getting down the stairs is a slow process, but it’s lucky there’s three of them to help. More than once, Harry thinks about just picking him up and carrying him down, but he doesn’t think Louis would be on board with that. 

He has another contraction as they hit the outside door. Luckily, the car is parked right in front and once the pain passes, they work as quick as they can to get him inside. 

Harry hurries around the other side and slides in next to him. Lily and Niall open their doors to get in just as Louis pulls on Harry’s shirt collar bringing him in close. 

“Don’t you leave me,” he says, looking serious and nervous and scared. “I need you.”

Harry’s nodding, one hand automatically going to rub his belly to soothe any residual pain. “I’m here, I’ll always be here.”

Louis nods and closes his eyes. Harry turns to tell them they’re ready and catches a long look between Niall and Lily. It reminds him of looks he’s caught the last few months, ones that feel like a private conversation is happening. 

Before he can say anything about it, they look forward. Lily is passing the Lucozade back and Niall’s turning on the car. He looks in the rearview mirror to make eye-contact with them and smiles. “Who’s ready to have a baby, kids?”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The birth happens in this chapter, but nothing is described graphically!  
> If you think reading this chapter might be uncomfortable/gross you out/you'd just rather not, I'm happy to give you more details on what happens for you to get a better idea or summarize it for you.

“Louis Tomlinson,” Louis says, “Dr. Margaret Wilson should be expecting me.”

“Louis Tomlinson,” the woman at the desk repeats, scanning her computer. “Yes, right here. Has your water broken?"

“Not yet.”

“And how far apart are contractions?” 

Louis breathes deeply and squeezes Harry’s hand tightly. He squeezes back to let him know he’s there and rubs his back. 

“Four and a half minutes,” Harry says, “and contractions last about a minute.”

“Have you noticed any unusually coloured discharge or very sharp pains?”

Louis’ face reddens. “No.”

“And what’s your pain level, scale of one to ten, with one being slightly uncomfortable and ten being can’t talk or move?”

“A five. Maybe six.”

“Okay, great. Thank you so much,” she smiles kindly at them. “You can have a seat in the waiting area and someone will be by to get you settled in a room shortly.”

“Thank you,” Harry and Louis say in unison. They look at each other and smile a little tentatively before making their way over to Niall and Lily, who are already sitting down. 

“Liam will be here in 15, Zayn said he’s trying to leave now but running into some issues.”

“Your mum texted me,” Harry says, “and said to keep her posted. She’s getting the first train down in the morning, but said to call if you need her and she’ll borrow a car.”

Louis just nods and breathes. “Niall?”

“Yes?”

“Can you and Lily get me another Lucozade?”

They look at each other and both stand. “Of course,” Niall says, “what flavour?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Alright,” Lily says, “we’ll be back in a little while then.”

Once they’re out of earshot, Harry asks, “What’s wrong?”

“No, nothing,” Louis says, leaning his head back against the chair and tilting it to look at Harry. “I just— I don’t want you to feel any pressure.”

“What?” Harry turns in his chair sideways so he’s facing Louis, still holding his hand. 

“This is a lot, you know?” he says. “And in the car I told you not to leave me but… you don’t have to stay. Labour… it’s messy and—”

“Do you not want me in there?”

“No,” Louis says immediately. “I mean, yes I _do_ want you with me, but not if you don’t want to.”

“Louis,” Harry laughs.

“Ugh, I don’t know Hazza,” Louis whines. “I don’t know how to do this. And I really wish you’d kissed me weeks ago instead so we could’ve actually talked about all of this first. But now I’m feeling weird and insecure and in labour. So you don’t get to act like I’m being ridiculous, okay?”

Harry bites his lip. “Would a kiss now make up for it?”

Louis half-heartedly shrugs, but looks like he’s trying to hide a smile. “Suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

Harry leans in closer, lips tingly and heart giddy and body so warm and light. But before he can connect their mouths, someone interrupts them. 

“Harry?”

He looks over and blinks several times. “Hi. Um, Jeremy, hi.”

Jeremy, the man he’d gone on that horrible date —start of a date— with all those months ago, is standing there in scrubs with a clipboard and a wheelchair. He looks between Harry and Louis. 

“How’ve you been?” he asks. 

“Good,” Harry says, feeling awkward. 

“I’m Louis,” Louis says, squeezing Harry’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Louis Tomlinson?” Jeremy asks. They both nod. “A delivery room is ready for you, I can take you there.”

Harry stands and grabs the bag before helping Louis up. 

“Oh. My friends have just popped off to get me a drink, should we wait?”

“If they ask the front desk, they’ll let them know the room number.”

Louis nods and walks over to the wheelchair. Harry helps him sit down and holds his hand, has to slouch down as they walk a little so he doesn’t stretch Louis’ arm weirdly. 

“You look good,” Jeremy says, and Harry belatedly realizes it’s directed at him. They’re much closer now and Harry can smell his scent strongly. Like completing a task at the last possible moment and the adrenaline that comes with it. It’s not bad, it’s just not what Harry wants.

“Thanks,” Harry says. “You too.”

“You never called me back after that night,” he says, sounding light, like it’s an observation and not a question. 

“I didn’t,” Harry agrees. And then, after a beat. “I forgot you worked here.”

“Oh, yeah. Another year before I finish my residency.”

“Exciting,” Harry says, and it sounds as awkward as it feels. 

They reach the room and Jeremy tells Louis he should change into the hospital gown laid out on the bed. 

“Harry, can I talk to you for a moment?” Jeremy asks. And he has to leave the room to let Louis change anyway, so he nods with one final look back at Louis, who has an unreadable expression on his face. 

Once outside the room, Jeremy collapses the wheelchair up and turns to face him. “So,” he says, “I just wanted to touch base.”

“About what?” Harry asks dumbly.

“About our date,” Jeremy says, leaning up against the wall and crossing his arms. “I talked with a friend about it and he said omegas probably don’t like to be without their scent either, for comfort reasons. So I wanted to say I’m sorry that you had to do that and sorry I made it seem like only alphas needed their scents.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows. “You think that’s what I was upset about?”

“Isn’t it?”

He sighs and shakes his head. 

Jeremy snorts. “C’mon, Harry, it was months ago. Just tell me.”

“It’s like. It is the scent thing, but different. You didn’t go through the descentifier.”

“Yeah,” he says, dragging it out as if to say _that’s what I just said._

“No, it was like you didn’t care about anyone else.”

Jeremy looks confused. “What?”

“I— Listen, I’m sorry, but my… Louis needs me in there. I should get back.”

And suddenly, it looks like something’s clicked for Jeremy. “ _Oh_ ,” he says. “Oh, I see.”

“What?”

“I’m so glad you’ve found what you wanted, Harry,” he says, smiling brightly at him. “Wish I could’ve been it, but happy you got it anyway.”

“Wait,” Harry says, shaking his head. _Yes_ he did find what he wanted but that’s _not_ why the date didn’t go well. 

“Take care,” Jeremy says, taking his clipboard and walking away. Harry considers going after him and setting the record straight, but then he thinks it wouldn’t change anything anyway, so he just shakes his head and turns back to knock on the door. 

He opens it when Louis says to come in. Wearing two hospital gowns, one each way so he’s not exposed, he’s got one hand supporting his back and one on his belly, wincing as he paces back and forth. 

“Good talk?” he asks. 

“Weird talk,” Harry says. “I went on a date with him back in October. The night you and I met, actually.”

“Oh, yeah?” Louis asks. He stops pacing and bounces a little in place. “He’s good looking.” 

Harry turns around and looks at the door before looking back at Louis. “Um, yeah I suppose.”

“Looks like he’d be a good alpha.”

Harry feels his insides freeze. “Oh… did you… did you want his number?”

“What?” Louis spits out. “No, I meant for you. If you wanted. If you changed your mind.”

Harry lets out a breath and it turns into a groan. “I’m getting a headache.”

“No, I’m just saying,” Louis says, “that it’d be okay. If you did. If you saw a good looking alpha and changed your mind.”

“Oh my god, _Louis.”_ Harry feels exasperated and weird and he can’t think of anything else to say except, “ _You’re_ my potato.”

“What?” Louis asks, breathing heavily again and wincing more intensely this time. 

“Let’s get you on the bed,” Harry says, shaking his head. And once he’s up and settled, leaning against the pillows and cuddled up in blankets, Harry offers a hand palm-up so Louis can hold it if he wants to. He does and doesn’t meet Harry’s eyes, just grasps hold of his hand and focuses on breathing as his contraction passes. 

“I’m sorry,” he says once the pain seemed to have passed. He squeezes Harry’s hand again. “I’m a nutter and I’m sorry.”

“You’re not a nutter. You’re in pain and you’re about to have a baby.”

“Wow, I had _no_ idea, thanks for telling me.”

“Louis,” Harry laughs. 

“Ugh, I’m _sorry_ ,” he whines. “I’m crabby already and I didn’t like seeing you with him. I didn’t like you leaving me.”

“I won’t leave again,” he promises. Harry takes his unoccupied hand and brings it up to cup Louis’ face. “You’re the only potato I want.”

Louis nuzzles into his hold and sighs. “What the fuck does that mean?”

But before he can remind him of their potato conversation all those months ago, they’re joined by their friends. 

“Heya,” Lily’s voice says as they come into the room. “Look who we found.”

Niall, Lily, and Liam all come into view, smiling at them. They look at each other briefly before gathering around the bed. Harry stands up a bit and removes his hand from Louis’ cheek, but he doesn’t pull away the one that’s holding Louis’ hand. 

Niall hands Louis the bottle of Lucozade and he takes it, cradling it against his side. 

“Zayn said he’ll be here soon,” Lily says, rubbing his leg. 

“How’re you feeling?” Liam asks. His hand moves up, like he’s going to caress Louis’ belly. Harry frowns at it, but watches a little helplessly as it touches the top of his bump. 

Immediately, Louis smacks his hand away. “Don’t touch my belly,” he snaps. 

Liam holds both hands up in a surrendering motion. 

Louis looks remorseful. “I’m sorry. Sorry, Leem. I’m on edge.”

“Of course,” he says, nodding and dropping his hands.

There’s a knock at the door and a few people come in. Louis squeezes Harry’s hand tighter as they come into view and gasps under his breath. 

“Louis,” one of the women says warmly. She’s tall and has a kind face. “Big group today,” she says as she grabs what must be his chart on the wall beside the bed. 

“Yes,” Louis says quietly. 

She looks around at all of them. “Hello, I’m Dr. Wilson, I’ll be taking care of Louis and leading the delivery today.” 

“Hello,” Harry says, and then the rest of them say their greetings. 

Dr. Wilson points to the two others that came in the room with her. “Dr. Graham and Nurse Poulsen, they’ll be assisting me.”

Harry looks over at them briefly, noticing that one of them is looking a little uneasy. Harry turns back to the doctor as she asks Louis questions. 

“It looks like contractions are about four minutes apart now. Moving fast,” she says it like praise. “I’m going to come back in half an hour. If your water hasn’t broken by then, we’ll do that manually before getting started. Of course, if things start moving faster, just flag down a nurse and tell them to page me. Louis, Dr. Graham will take your vitals now, if that’s okay, while Nurse Poulsen starts setting up.”

“Um,” Louis says. He nods, tries to sit up a bit more. “Yeah, okay.”

“Great, I’ll see you soon,” Dr. Wilson says, holding his arm briefly before walking out with Nurse Poulsen. 

It’s quiet in the room now, and Harry feels a bit of tension. 

Dr. Graham clears his throat and walks over to them. He’s got dark hair and a strong bone structure. Definitely alpha, with his scent that smells like getting dizzy from spending all day on roller coasters at a theme park. 

Liam and Lily cross their arms over their chests and Niall throws an arm over Lily’s shoulders. 

“Hi,” Dr. Graham says, looking at Louis’ belly. He clears his throat again and puts his stethoscope into his ears and hovers with the silver part above Louis’ chest. “I’m going to listen to your heartbeat.”

Louis nods and looks away from him. Harry squeezes his hand but Louis doesn’t look at him either. 

“Okay, and can you lean forward for me?”

Louis leans on Harry to try and pull himself forward and Harry uses his arm to help prop him up. 

“Breathe deeply for me… and let it out. Good. One more time. Good.”

Harry helps Louis lean back against the bed again, holding a pillow so it’s lined up with his head. Dr. Graham takes his stethoscope down from his ears and looks at Louis for a few seconds. 

“Anything else?” Louis asks. 

“Um, yeah. Let me just take your blood pressure and pulse.” He grabs the cuff from the wall, secures it to Louis’ arm, and starts to pump air into it, listening, nodding, and then letting the air out. “Everything looks good.”

“Great,” Louis says. “Thanks.”

“Nine months already, huh?”

Louis lets out a stilted laugh and looks over at Liam, Niall, and Lily. “Yep,” he says, “that’s about how long it takes.”

Harry looks hard at Louis and then up at Dr. Graham, who’s looking more at Louis’ belly now than he is at Louis’ face, although he’s definitely looking there, too. Harry feels something rise up inside him, something protective and fierce that he doesn’t quite understand. 

“You look good. Healthy,” Dr. Graham says. 

“Alright,” Liam says in a warning tone just as the door to the room opens again. 

“I’m here, I’m here,” comes Zayn’s voice, and then his body. He stops in his tracks when he sees Dr. Graham. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Dr. Graham raises his hands in front of him, like Zayn’s going to rush at him or something. “I’m working.”

“Working?” Zayn says, incredulous. “I thought I told you—”

“I didn’t expect to be assigned to this case, Dr. Wilson just asked me to sub in for another resident at the last minute.”

“What is going on?” Harry mumbles to himself. It’s obvious that Louis hears him when he squeezes his hand again. Harry looks over and sees Louis’ got his eyes closed tight. 

Zayn scoffs and shakes his head. “I don’t give a fuck. Get out of here. You said you didn’t want part of this, so _leave._ ”

“It wasn’t exactly like that…”

Zayn looks ready to rage just as Louis’ voice cuts through, eyes still closed. “Luke, you should go. And, uh, asked to be switched to something else probably.”

“Yeah,” Dr. Graham —Luke— says. “Bye Louis. Yeah, bye…”

It’s not until the door has opened and shut again that Louis opens his eyes and he looks right at Harry. 

“Fucking arsehole,” Zayn mumbles from across the room. Harry doesn’t look away from Louis. 

“Who was that?” Harry asks, even though he has his guesses. 

Louis sighs. “An old friend,” he says softly. And Harry nods, and knows that probably means his old friend with benefits… the baby’s biological father then. 

“Okay,” Harry says. He brings their intertwined hands up to his mouth. They’re sweating and sliding together now, but Harry doesn’t care, and it seems Louis doesn’t either. Harry kisses the back of Louis’ hand. 

“This, too, we need to talk about this,” Zayn says, and this time Harry does look over. He’s looking between the two of them, unimpressed and still a little angry. 

“Zayn,” Louis starts. 

“No, Louis, I know you said it was fine when we talked, but I’m fucking _nervous_ for you. I’ve seen you get your heart broken and it’s bullshit. First by that dick at work and then by that fucking arsehole who says he doesn’t have _time_ to be a parent but wants to help you through your _horny pregnancy cravings_ and I’m worried this is the same. We all are.”

Niall, Lily, and Liam all look down sheepishly, but no one is disagreeing. 

“Oh Christ,” Louis says. “Is now the best time to be having this conversation?”

“It is if you don’t want me to punch Harry like I punched that fucking arsehole. Which I don’t want to do because I actually like Harry.”

“Woah,” Harry mumbles. 

“You punched him?” Louis asks.

“You knew that,” Zayn scoffs. 

“No I didn’t.”

“ _Months_ ago I told you the reason I was over at Liam’s that night was because I’d gone over and had it out with that shitty excuse for a human. I _told_ you.”

“I didn’t know ‘had it out’ meant you hit him,” Louis says, shaking his head. “Fuck, you could’ve been hurt, Zayn.”

“He was, actually,” Liam says, “Sprained his wrist. I had to take him to the emergency room and he crashed on my sofa because he couldn’t be alone after the intense painkillers.”

“You said you sprained your wrist painting!” Louis accuses.

Harry thinks back to the night he met Zayn, at the brace on his wrist. Woah.

Zayn shrugs and it’s quiet for a moment as everyone seems to process.

Niall hums. “I guess they really didn’t fuck.”

Lily puts a hand to her head and mutters something like _Not the time._

“I can’t watch you get your heart broken again, not by Harry, Lou.”

“Oh my god,” Louis says, bringing a hand up to cover his face. He winces then, squeezes Harry’s hand as he starts another contraction. 

“You don’t have to worry,” Harry says, promising all of them. And again, the only thing he can think to say is, “He’s my potato.”

Thankfully, Niall’s eyes light up. They make eye contact and Harry nods. “No shit,” Niall says, in awe.

“What the fuck,” Zayn says. 

And then there’s another knock of the door. Dr. Wilson is coming in, alone this time. 

“Bigger group now,” she says happily. “Welcome. Dr. Graham just said he wouldn’t be able to help me today, so I wanted to check in and see how we were feeling.”

“It’s complicated,” Louis says, voice straining from the pain. 

“Another contraction?” she asks. She grabs a stool from the corner of the room and a pair of gloves. “Louis, I’m just going to see how far you’re dilated. Is that okay?”

He nods and lets out a long breath as he rests his head back against the pillow. 

“If you all could just switch around to the side,” she says to everyone standing behind her. “Thank you.”

Harry looks at Louis, who swallows and tilts his head to the left to look at Harry. They hold eye contact for a long moment before Louis smiles. “Hi,” he says. 

Smiling back, Harry says, “Hi,” very softly. 

“This is the single most dramatic day of my life, and I haven’t even given birth yet.”

Harry laughs and so does Louis and it’s soft and nice. 

“Alright,” Dr. Wilson says, interrupting them without knowing it. “It’s not usually this quick for first time mums, but it seems you’ve lucked out, Louis! I think with how fast everything is moving, it’s time to get ready to push.” She looks at all of them. “I’ll have to ask all of you to have a seat in the waiting room. We’ll have someone come out and tell you when you can come back in.”

She takes off her gloves and puts them in the bin on her way out the door. 

The rest of them come over and give pats to Louis' leg, little squeezes to his feet, wish him good luck and say how excited they are. Louis smiles at all of them, and once they’re out of the room, it’s quiet again. 

“We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?” Louis asks. 

“Of course you are,” Harry says, brushing some sweaty hair off of Louis’ forehead. 

“But are _we?_ ” 

“Yeah,” Harry says. “Of course.”

Louis nods, looks down to Harry’s mouth and then up to his eyes again. Harry smiles, leans forward, and once again the door opens. Louis groans and laughs and shakes his head. 

Nurse Poulsen comes in, dressed in an additional mesh-looking blue gown and cap on her head. “I’m sorry, sir,” she says. “You can’t be in here.”

Harry looks her over with a furrowed brow. “What do you mean?”

“Only family members and partners are allowed in the room, hospital policy.”

Louis shifts, squeezing onto Harry’s hand even tighter than he has been. Harry’s not sure if it’s another contraction or from the information, but either way it has something big and protective roaring inside of him. 

He puffs out his chest as he stands up straighter to look at her. “I’m his alpha,” he says, clearly and with just enough bite that Harry feels himself almost taken aback. 

Nurse Poulsen blinks at him in surprise for a moment before schooling her features back to neutral. There’s no way she can’t smell that he’s omega, but she nods anyway and says, “Well alright then. Let’s get you some scrubs while we get Louis set up, okay?”

Harry takes a moment before he nods, floating in the surprise of that actually working. She leaves them for a moment to go out the door, and as soon as she has, Harry feels the tug of his arm, being pulled down so he’s hovering over Louis. Louis leans in to fist his shirt and pull on it, forcing him down so Harry’s an inch from his mouth. 

“I want you to know that if I wasn’t in blinding pain,” he says, holding onto the collar tightly, “I would be wildly turned on right now.” 

Harry laughs and Louis clashes their mouths together, more teeth than lips, but it’s fantastic. 

The nurse comes back a minute later to find them giggling, and Harry lets go of Louis just long enough to put everything on, including his hair cap and mask. The nurse has set up a stool right beside the bed and Harry sits on it, reaching out for Louis’ hand again. 

Dr. Wilson comes in, smiling at them both behind her mask and getting everything set up around Louis’ lower half. 

“Ready?” Harry asks. 

“One more kiss,” Louis says, “for the drama of it.”

Harry leans forward and pulls down his mask to press their lips together. When he pulls away, Louis is beaming, sweating and looking nervous and in pain, but ready. 

“Alright Louis, here we go,” Dr. Wilson says. 

“Here we go,” Louis repeats looking forward at his spread knees and breathing deep. 

“Here we go,” Harry says. 

***

A few hours later, Harry steps out into the waiting room, smiling his head off. They’re two and two, sitting across from each other. Niall’s head is leaning against Lily’s shoulder and she’s playing with his hair. Liam is watching whatever is on the television hanging from the ceiling and Zayn’s eyes are closed, maybe asleep. 

He walks over to them, holding his hair net in his hands. They look up as he gets closer and Liam nudges Zayn awake. They stand and wait. 

“Well?” Liam asks. 

“It’s a girl,” Harry says, feeling tears prickle at his eyes again. God, he only just stopped crying and here he is about to again. “She’s perfect,” he says. 

They’re all hugging each other now, and the rest of them are crying, so Harry gives in and does too. 

“Louis?” Zayn asks. 

“Good. He’s so good, he did so well.” 

Zayn hugs him again, tighter than before and it feels like he’s saying more than Harry can interpret at the moment. 

“Do you want to meet her?”

“Of course!” Lily nearly screeches. And then she says, “Oops, sorry,” to a passing nurse who glares at her. 

They head back to the room and Harry lets all of them file in ahead of him. He’s struck when he sees Louis again, with little love in his arms. His hair is nearly soaked through from sweat and he looks tired, but so good. So happy. 

Their friends are all gathered around the bed, looking at Louis and the baby’s little face. The soft pink lips and chapped skin and tiny scrunched up nose. She huffs and squirms in Louis’ arms and then settles back down, content. 

“Have you come up with a name yet?” Niall whispers just as Harry reaches the end of the bed. 

“Not sure,” Louis says quietly. “She’s been _little love_ in my head for so long, now. I want to spend more time with her. See what comes to me.”

“That’s a great idea,” Lily says. “For now, little love.”

“Yeah,” Louis says. He looks up at all of them, hovering on Harry for an extra beat, before looking back at the bundle in his arms. “So glad you’re finally here, little love.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: There is a sex scene in this chapter, denoted by ___ before and after if you want to skip. There are a couple of important bits within the scene that I'd be happy to summarize if you DM me on Tumblr!

“Harry,” Louis calls out from the sitting room, sounding more desperate than a minute ago. His voice cuts above the crying, but only just. 

It’s barely 8am on a Saturday, and she’s been crying for a couple of hours now. This is the second attempt at a bottle. 

“I’m trying,” Harry calls back, tapping his foot impatiently at the microwave, waiting for the milk to be warm enough. A second before it goes off, he opens the door to grab it and twists the bottle cap on. Over the sink, he shakes a few drops onto his wrist to make sure it’s not too hot, and when he’s content, he rushes back out. 

Louis’ pacing back and forth now, bouncing and rocking and trying to move any which way he can to try and soothe their baby and having absolutely no luck. Relief washes over him as Harry comes through, and he moves to sit back down on the sofa. 

“It’s not too hot?” Louis asks as he adjusts her against his chest. 

“No,” Harry says, holding the bottle out to him.

Louis doesn’t take it. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure, I tested it.”

Louis looks down at the bottle skeptically. Harry rolls his eyes; Louis does this when he hasn’t gotten enough sleep and she’s particularly loud. He gently takes Louis’ wrist and splashes a few drops onto it so he can confirm himself. He nods and takes the bottle and coos at little love as he tries to maneuver the bottle’s nipple into her mouth. It takes a minute, but she latches on and starts sucking. It’s quiet except for the sound of her swallowing. Louis sighs. 

“Wish she’d latch,” he says miserably. 

Harry sits down beside him and rubs circles along his back. “Remember, Dr. Wilson said that not all babies latch, it’s okay.”

Louis sighs again. “I thought after a few months she would, though.”

“I know,” Harry says. And Louis tilts his body into Harry’s so he’s leaning against him. As tired as Harry is, he knows he’s got his whole world in his arms right now, and that’s something to be happy about. 

There’s a knock at the door then, and they both look down at her, alarmed, wondering if this will make her start crying again. She simply looks back up at them and continues to drink. 

Harry kisses the side of Louis’ head and walks over. 

Through the spyhole, he sees their friends. He opens the door quietly and says, “Hey, we weren’t expecting you all until tonight.”

“We know,” Niall says, just as quietly. “Can we come in?”

Harry looks back into the flat, at Louis who’s trying to peer over and see, then back to them. He holds the door open, and watches them all come through, carrying bags and boxes, giving him pats on the shoulder or kisses on the cheek as they make their way through. Harry closes the door and finds that Liam and Lily are in the kitchen while Zayn and Niall have joined Louis in the living room. Harry follows the latter to see what they’re up to. 

“Lou, my love,” Niall says quietly, kissing him on top of his head. He squats down then and whispers, “Andy, my love,” and blows her a kiss. She blinks up at him and keeps sucking. 

“Stop calling her that, it’s not her name,” Louis whispers. 

Niall stands and turns so he can sit in one of the big arm chairs. “Trust me, you’re going to get sick of the full name.”

“I am not,” Louis scoffs, tilting his head up to get a kiss from Zayn on the cheek. 

“ _Andromeda_ is a mouthful. Lovely, but too long for every day, I’m telling you.”

“Leave him alone, Niall,” Zayn says, going to sit in the other arm chair. “It’s poetic. She’s _the ruler of men._ ”

Niall squints at him. “Did you look up the meaning in Greek? Are you really that kind of nerd?”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “How’d you know it was Greek, Niall? Did you look it up? _Are you really that kind of nerd?_ ”

Niall is quiet for a moment before he starts laughing. “Alright, you got me there.”

They both settle down in their seats, just gazing at Louis and little love. 

“She’s a galaxy,” is what Harry says, and it makes Louis look at him with a soft smile and sparkling, tired eyes. 

Lily and Liam come out from the kitchen then and make their way over to Louis. They say hellos and give kisses and make big eyes at the bundle in Louis’ lap. 

“What’re you all doing here?” Louis says. “Game night’s not until later.”

“Well, we figured we’d give you both the day to rest,” Lily says, coming up to Harry and wrapping her arms around his middle sideways, hugging him. “If you’re up for it.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asks, wrapping his arms around her, as well. 

“It’s been almost three months and we know you’re tired,” Zayn says. 

“And you probably haven’t eaten properly,” Liam says.

“Or _talked_ properly,” Niall adds. 

Harry and Louis look at each other, and Harry feels a blush creep up on his cheeks. 

“So we wanted to give you a day to just sleep and eat and talk. Or do whatever you need to,” Lily says, giving Harry’s middle a squeeze. “We’re here to watch her for as long as you need.”

“Lily and I brought a bag to stay overnight, too,” Niall says, “just in case.”

He sees a blush raise up on Louis’ cheeks now. 

“I don’t know if I can leave her yet,” Louis says to the group. And Harry’s about to agree with anything Louis says, even if a nap does sound phenomenal, right now, but Zayn speaks up before he can. 

“You’re only going across the hall. You can come back whenever. We’re not kicking you out, just trying to give you some time.” Zayn smiles and nods gently at Louis.

It’s quiet for a beat and Louis looks down at little love and then over at Harry and then down at little love.

“Well… maybe. Just for a bit. After her bottle, though,” Louis says. And Lily squeezes Harry’s middle again.

Little love falls asleep in Niall’s arms fifteen minutes later, and Harry and Louis are prodded out into the hall without their shoes and the door closes behind them without one ounce of hesitation. 

They stare at it for a minute before looking at each other and laughing at the absurdity no doubt they both feel. Louis offers out his hand, Harry takes it and they head on over to Harry’s flat. 

It’s weird to be back here, the two of them, when it’s not just popping over for a loo roll or the sugar in the pantry or for Harry to change quickly before heading out for work. Harry hands his keys up on the hook and locks the door. 

“Do you want a cup of tea?” Harry says. He knows he doesn’t have to keep his voice down, because there isn’t a baby to chance waking up, but he can’t help it. 

“Yeah, please,” Louis says. He stays in the kitchen with him while the kettle boils. Harry knows nothing is in the refrigerator, but he opens the freezer to see if there’s a snack he can make them or something. He finds a bag of frozen hash browns and holds them up, silently asking Louis if he wants them. He nods and Harry preheats the oven, too. 

It’s a nice, but tentative quiet between them as they drink their tea, and then as they eat. They talk about Harry’s work, briefly, but other than that, there’s a companionable silence, mostly driven by the fact that both of them are so tired. 

“Nap?” Louis asks once they're done eating and Harry nods, already heading towards the sofa, but Louis stops him. He starts walking towards Harry’s room, but slowly enough that Harry could switch their course if he wanted. He doesn’t. 

They haven’t been back here together since Louis went into labour. He doesn’t need help getting up on the bed this time, and in fact is the one to pull Harry up to him. They face each other, with Louis up against the main part of the nest and the wall. 

“Hi,” Louis says. 

“Hi,” Harry says. 

They stare at each other for a moment. Sleep has been hard to come by these last few months. Sometimes they are in Louis’ bed with little love in the bassinet and they’ll just look at her for a while, but inevitably one of them will have to get up for something. Other times, Louis is in the nursery, in the rocking chair or set up with pillows and a blanket next to the cot, and Harry is on the sofa or on the floor next to him, ready to jump up at a moment’s notice. 

They practically never go to sleep at the same time, so it feels weird to be doing it now. Harry almost doesn’t want to, just wants to keep looking at Louis’ eyelashes and cheekbones and his hair that’s a bit too long now because he hasn’t left their flat to get it cut. 

Louis yawns and pulls Harry closer, tucking his head under his chin and sighing. Harry drapes an arm around his shoulders and snuggles closer, too. Sleep overtakes him sooner than he expects and he can’t do anything to stop it. 

He wakes to an empty bed and the sound of the kettle boiling in the other room. Harry yawns as he sits up, rubbing his eyes and trying to orient himself. He looks at the clock beside his bed and sees that it’s 2pm, which is both earlier and later than he’d expected. He gets up and makes his way to the kitchen, where Louis is arranging biscuits on a plate. 

He hears Harry come in and tuts to himself. “Was hoping to wake you up with a nice snack,” he says ruefully. 

“Thank you,” he says, looking at the side of Louis’ neck as he keeps layering biscuits. “Where’d you find those?”

“I popped over to ours —mine— for something to eat since there wasn’t much else here. Liam made sure to grab these for me as a treat at the shop. Figured why not.” He looks up and shrugs with a smile, offering out the plate for Harry to take one, which he does. 

The kettle goes off, and Louis makes the tea carefully, methodically, and doesn't look at Harry until he passes his mug to him. They stand there in the kitchen, drinking, eating biscuits, and sneaking glances at each other. 

“We should talk, yeah?” Louis asks.

Harry nods.

Louis sniffs and clears his throat. Then he shakes himself out and gives a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m a parent now, I should be able to have tough conversations.” 

Harry feels his stomach drop. “This is a tough conversation?” he makes himself ask. 

Louis grimaces. “No, sorry. I mean yes. I mean… we need to make sure we’re on the same page, and that we know what we want and expect. So it could be tough, if we don’t agree.” 

They’ve talked a little about it —them, their situation— but it’s been hard to have a proper conversation like they need to. 

“Right, well...” Harry says. He takes a deep breath and says, “I want you.” 

Louis’ eyes get lighter, he looks like he’s going to make a joke of some sort, but then he swallows. He taps his fingers against his mug and leans his hip against the counter. “How do you want me?”

He’s been thinking about that quite a bit these few months. How he wants Louis, where he wants Louis, what he wants to do to Louis and what he wants Louis to do to him. It’s been exhilarating, actually, to have a face to put to all his fantasies now. He feels himself smirk down at the biscuit in his hands. 

“Not like _that_ ,” Louis says, leaning over to push at his shoulder. But it gets a smile on his face, and that settles something in Harry. “I mean in everything. We’ve got to set some expectations, lay out what this means for us, or else one or both of us is going to get hurt.”

Harry nods. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, either,” Louis agrees. “And I want you to tell me what you want. As much as I’ve already thought of you as with me on all of this, little love is mine. You don’t owe either of us anything. In fact, I think we owe _you_ a helluva lot.” 

“I don’t want _that_ ,” Harry says immediately. “I don’t want you telling me you owe me something. I hate that.”

Louis’ eyebrows go up, maybe at how quickly Harry responded, or how forceful it sounded. “Okay,” he says slowly. “Yes. I’ll work on it.” 

“I want her to be mine, too,” Harry says, more tentatively this time, watching how Louis reacts. “She feels like mine, too.” 

Louis nods. “She does feel like yours," he says, tugging at the bottom of his own t-shirt. "Does that mean…?”

They pause, just looking at each other for a long beat. Harry takes a breath and just says it, because what he wants isn’t going to change, no matter what else might. 

“I want to adopt her.” He swallows. “I almost asked you to put me down as the father on her birth certificate at the hospital,” he says, half joking. 

Louis laughs a little, too. “I would have.” He looks up at him. “I’d love for you to adopt her,” he says sincerely. “But I want you to do it for her and not for me.”

Harry nods. Before she was born, he probably would have argued that point, that it would always be for both of them. But he gets it now. Choosing her is more important than choosing Louis, and it always would be. 

“Yes,” Harry says with his whole heart. 

“Good,” Louis breathes out. “Okay. One thing settled. A million more to go.” 

“No. Just one more thing,” Harry says, taking a step forward. “I’ll take all of you.”

Louis laughs. “If only it were that simple.”

“It is,” Harry says, placing his hands on Louis’ waist. “Anything you want to give me, I’ll take it. I want you.”

“Hazza,” Louis giggles, stopping Harry from kissing him. “Babe, one step at a time. Like that, do you even like those kinds of pet names?”

“Call me anything you like, as long as I’m yours.”

Louis’ eyelashes flutter closed for a moment before he opens them. “Stop trying to distract me with pretty lines.” But then he squeezes at Harry’s shoulders and flattens his palms down Harry’s chest, less like he’s stopping him now, and more like he’s touching. “Are we… co-parents? Boyfriends? Platonic partners? We never _really_ talked about it, but I know we want things in different ways.”

“Parents, for sure,” Harry says, smiling at him and watching Louis smile back fondly. “Probably boyfriends to start. Mates and husbands next, or whatever you want.”

Louis blinks at him. “You want to _mate_ with me?”

“Yes,” Harry says, leaning forward further. Louis’ hands move up to thumb at Harry’s neck and they both shiver when he rubs over Harry’s mating spot. 

“No one’s ever said they wanted to do that with me before,” Louis says quietly. 

“I don’t know _how_ that’s possible,” Harry says, and Louis is pulling him in now, too. Their mouths are a breath away. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about mating you.”

Louis moans and closes the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck, one hand tugging at the hair on the back of his head. Harry hauls Louis up and sits him on the counter, and Louis moans some more. 

_Yes,_ Harry thinks. _Yes_ this _is it._ This was what he’s been missing.

“Call me alpha,” he says, nipping at Louis’ bottom lip.

Louis’ eyebrows pull together as he kisses Harry again. “Huh?” he says.

“I want to be your alpha,” Harry says, right against Louis’ mouth. He wants to be his so much. “Say I can be your alpha. Please.”

Louis pulls away to make eye contact. He cups Harry’s face in his hands firmly but gently.

“Hazza,” he sighs. “Do you want to be my alpha because you want to?” Louis asks. “Or because you think that’s what I want?”

Harry’s eyebrows furrow. Isn't that what Louis wants? Harry knows he said it doesn’t matter to him, but it has to a little, doesn’t it? With the baby and trying to make a life for her… he needs someone to be there for them, support them, protect them. “I don’t— I don’t know how to answer that.”

Louis kisses him, just barely a light peck. “Do _you_ want to be an alpha? Or do you think _I_ want an alpha?”

“I…” Harry starts, and then stops himself. “I’m not sure.” He feels frustrated now, trying to think about it. It was so confusing, the last months of Louis’ pregnancy especially, and now it feels like all the things he thought he’d figured out are unraveling.

“I don’t want to make you upset," Louis says, "but I do want to get this right. Us, together. I want to make sure we both understand what we want, no matter what it is.”

Harry squares his shoulders and settles himself on his feet. This is not the time to get flustered. This is the time to show Louis he can be everything he needs. 

“I know what I want,” Harry says solidly, taking Louis’ face in his hands again and kissing him with as much care and passion as he can muster to prove it. 

Louis goes a bit lax in his hold. Harry feels triumphant and euphoric and fuzzy.

“I—” Louis gasps away from Harry’s mouth. “Wait— I want you, Harry. _You_ ,” he emphasizes, placing one palm flat against the middle of Harry’s chest and looking into his eyes. “Whoever it is you are.” 

Before Harry can respond, Louis hurries to say, “I want to take care of you. I want you to cook for us and I want to do our dishes. I want to go grocery shopping with a list you give me, because I know it makes you anxious, and because if I go without a list we’d probably be eating pickles all week.” Harry lets out a sharp laugh and threads his fingers into Louis’ hair. “I want to try and make you lunch every day, even though I might get it wrong more often than right, and I want you to tell me you like it anyway. And I want you to get me my second cup of tea every night because I’ll be too tired to do it myself.”

Harry can’t help but picture it: Louis pouting, holding out his mug, all snuggled up on his sofa with their baby. Looking so soft and comforting, able to convince Harry of doing anything. 

They’re still so close. Harry looks into those searching blue eyes and sighs dreamily at how much care he sees there. 

Louis touches their foreheads together and closes his eyes. “That’s some of what I want,” he says. “What do you want?”

“I want to take care of you,” Harry says easily. “I want to build you a shelf for your records and dance with you in the kitchen before dinner every night. I want to make all the things you’re craving and sneak as many vegetables in as I can.” Louis giggles a little at that and it makes Harry smile. “I want to keep making you laugh and I want you to write cheesy love notes on those awful lunches you’ll make me.” He pauses before pecking Louis’ mouth again. “I want to love you,” he says quietly. “Really love you, the way you deserve to be loved. You and little love.”

Louis nods quickly, looking so hopeful and happy. “Yeah, Harry, I want that, too. I want all of that.” 

“Want to be your alpha,” Harry says again.

“Hazza, I don’t want you to be my alpha,” he says. “Don’t want you to be my omega, either, if that’s not what you feel. I want you to be my Harry. Want you to be mine in all the ways you want.”

 _Oh,_ Harry thinks. And it’s like a lightbulb goes off inside of him. 

He didn’t know that was an option, didn’t know Louis could want him like that. No labels, no definitions… just him. 

“Yeah, Lou,” he says eagerly. “ _Yes_ , I want that.”

“I want it. I want you,” Louis says. They kiss again, more urgently this time. “Can we, um… talk more later?” he asks against Harry's lips. “Just wanna snog some more.”

Harry doesn’t even say _yes,_ just starts kissing him again, and it works well enough as an answer. 

_____________________

The longer they snog, the more Harry feels himself getting turned on — _wet_ — and smells Louis is, too. 

In between kisses, he says, “Can we take this...?” _To the bedroom_ goes unsaid. 

“You want to?” Louis asks.

Harry nods. 

“Okay,” Louis says. Kissing a few more times before pulling back and hopping off the counter, taking his hand, and walking together into Harry’s room.

They’re on the bed next to the original nest Harry unknowingly made. It feels right to be doing it here, even if Harry's heart is racing, so much more nervous than he realized. Louis can obviously sense it, because he squeezes his hand and says, “We don’t have to do anything, babe. We can talk. Or snog until our faces are numb. Or sleep some more. God knows when we’ll get it again.”

Harry laughs. “I just… I don’t know how to do this. Like I know _how_ , but it's different. And I've never done it when I wanted it like this.”

“You do want it, yeah?” Louis asks, concerned lines etched in his forehead. 

“Yeah,” Harry says, sliding his hand down, skimming across where he knows he’s already hard to see if Louis is the same. He slides his hand over Louis’ clothed cock and watches him tip his head back and moan.

“What do you want, Louis?” Harry asks, kissing his neck. 

“What do _you_ want?” Louis asks and then chokes out a moan as he humps against Harry’s hand. 

“Louis,” Harry whines. “I just want to make you feel good. Please don’t make me decide.”

He has the audacity to laugh, but then he tips his head back down and says, “Okay.” 

He rolls Harry onto his back and straddles one of his thighs, rocking back and forth to create some friction for them both. 

“You gonna ride me?” Harry asks, a thrill running up his spine. He’s been anxious about doing it like this, a position he's definitely _never_ done with either of the alphas he'd had sex with before. It might work out for him this way, if Louis just does what makes him feel good while Harry quietly has his nervous breakdown. 

“I was actually thinking of getting inside you.”

Harry blinks up at him. “You want to?” he asks, almost disbelieving. 

“Of course I want to,” he says, stopping his rocking. “Wait, do you not want to?” He straightens up. “Was that what the alpha conversation was about? Were you trying to tell me you don’t want to bottom?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to. Um, fuck me, that is.”

“This,” Louis says, poking his chest. “See, _this_ is why we need to talk!” He groans. “Maybe we should take one of those couples quizzes or something; the ones that have you mark down what you like in bed. We can compare afterwards and go from there.”

Before Louis can do something crazy like stop this, Harry sits up and wraps his arms around him, holding him close. It takes Louis by surprise, knocking the breath out of him for a moment, but he recovers quickly and wraps his arms around Harry’s shoulders. 

“I would _love_ that,” Harry says. “And I'd love it _now._. We can worry about the rest later.”

For a moment, Harry’s sure Louis is going to argue, but then he just nods and crashes their mouths together, falling forward to push Harry back against the bed. 

He pulls Harry’s shirt off, and then works on removing his joggers. He sits at the end of the bed once he’s placed his discarded clothing on top of the now-stale nest. That in and of itself is almost too hot for Harry to handle, so he fists the sheets, looks up to the ceiling, and breathes. 

After half a minute, he looks at Louis again, who’s looking down and fiddling with the hem of his shirt. 

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks, leaning up on his elbows. 

Louis puffs out his cheeks, then lets out the air in a big sigh. “It’s just… I gained quite a bit of weight, during the pregnancy. And with you cooking for me, I haven’t lost basically any of it.”

“Okay,” Harry says, looking down at Louis’ hands, at where they’re tugging at the material and hesitant. 

“And pregnancy does a lot of weird things to your body. I’ve got stretch marks and loose skin and fat in places I’ve never had fat before.”

“Louis, you know I love your body, right?”

Louis looks at him reproachfully. “You like the _idea_ of my body.”

“No, I like your body because it’s _your_ body. You’re my potato.”

Louis rolls his eyes and groans. “What does that even _mean?_ You’ve said it half a dozen times and I can’t tell if you’re calling me lumpy or lazy or what.”

Harry laughs and sits up more, reaching out for his hand. Louis takes it but doesn’t look at him. “Remember? It was your thirtieth birthday, and we were setting up Andromeda’s cot, and I had an existential crisis in the nursery.”

Louis furrows his brows and finally looks at him. 

“You told me about the beta you hooked up with and said you weren’t bothered by what kind of potato it was or how the potato was made.” 

Louis’ eyes light up. “Oh my god. I was exhausted, I had no idea what I was saying.”

Harry shakes his head. “It really helped me figure out what I wanted. And what I want is _you._ Because you’re exactly the kind of potato I want.”

Louis' eyes flicker all over Harry's face. “I’m your potato?”

“You’re my potato.”

Louis blushes and looks down, still holding onto his shirt with one hand.

“Can I see my potato?” Harry asks quietly. 

Louis looks up sharply. “Okay, that was cute before, I’ll give you that, but don’t ever call my naked body a potato ever again.”

“Yes sir,” Harry says, and it causes a mischievous spark in Louis’ eyes. 

He takes off his top quickly and seems to be avoiding looking at Harry as he takes off his joggers and pants, but Harry can’t take his eyes off of him. 

He’s stunning. Soft and round in certain places. His stretch marks are still iridescent, like when he’d catch glimpses of them before. His cock is hard and the smell of his slick is stronger without his clothes on. The smell of him now causes Harry to shutter, makes him think of someone whispering dirty things in his ear. Of _Louis_ saying naughty things to him.

He’s so beautiful. So sexy. It makes Harry wetter.

“Am I still your potato?” Louis asks softly, kneeling between Harry’s legs on the bed. 

“Is that a trick question?” 

Louis laughs, and Harry feels a bit more at ease seeing him smile. 

“I love you,” Harry says. “I'm more in love with you now than ever.”

Louis blushes and smiles, and leans forward to kiss him before saying, “I love you, too.” 

For a minute they talk about condoms, and ultimately decide against it, blushing and stuttering and smiling. 

They’re naked on top of Harry’s bed, snogging as they feel each other up. When they’re both gasping into each other’s mouths, Louis drags his cock through the slick between Harry’s cheeks and rubs the head of it against his rim. 

“Are you sure?” Louis asks one last time, positioned right against him, waiting to slide inside. 

“Please,” Harry says. 

They take a breath together as Louis pushes halfway into him. Harry’s breath stops short, stuck in his throat. 

It’s never felt like this before. This is beyond someone touching all the places that feel good, beyond someone touching him. This is Louis touching Harry because he _wants_ him. This is Harry _wanting_ to be touched by Louis so bad he can hardly breathe. And Louis’ not even all the way inside him yet. 

He feels shaky as he nods at Louis to keep going. 

Louis pushes into Harry until he’s completely sheathed. They both gasp against each other’s lips; after a moment Harry lets out a whimpering groan and Louis snogs his slack mouth. 

He drops down on top of Harry, resting his weight on his forearms. Harry drags his leg up against Louis’, relishing the way their skin feels sliding against each other. 

Harry didn’t know it could be like this. Didn’t know he could be so turned on by another person. Didn’t know it would make him feel so fucking sexy having Louis looking down at him like he’s the answer to the universe as he pulls out and pushes in again. 

Harry can’t help his second gasp at it. He’s blazing, feels sweat prickle at his temples as Louis begins a slow steady grind into him. 

“Fuck babe,” Louis whispers, almost in awe. “You feel so good.”

Harry can’t even answer, he’s still processing how satisfying it feels to have Louis inside of him. Hot and hard and filling him up perfectly. Louis kisses over his cheek to his jaw in order to nibble a bit there, doing it again when Harry lets out a long, deep moan. 

Tilting his head back against the pillow helps ground him, but it also leaves his entire throat exposed, which Louis latches onto immediately as he starts to increase his speed. Harry sobs something fierce then and clenches around where Louis’ buried inside. 

But then he stops, and Harry tilts his head back down to see why, when Louis looks at him, alarmed. 

“Am I hurting you?” he asks, already moving like he’s about to pull out. Harry stops him by wrapping his legs around Louis’ bum and holding him close, shaking his head fast because he still doesn’t quite have the words. 

“Is it… okay?” Louis asks, tilting his head forward, eyebrows pulling together.

Harry nods and feels a tear roll down his face. He watches Louis track it before looking back into his eyes, looking even more concerned now. So Harry makes himself say, “Overwhelmed.” He takes a deep breath. “So good,” he lets out in a shaky breath.

“You sure?” Louis says, halfway between a question and a statement.

Harry nods again and unclenches his hands from the sheets by his head in order to hold onto Louis’ face, pulling him close for a deep kiss. Louis moans into it and almost subconsciously starts grinding his hips forward again. 

“You’re so wet,” Louis mumbles. “Making me wet.”

And now that he’s said it, Harry can feel Louis’ slick against his leg where they’re still wrapped around his hips and thighs. Fuck that’s hot. 

His hand slides down and grabs hold of one of his cheeks. 

“Can I?” he asks. 

Louis says, “You can do anything you want.”

So Harry lets two of his fingers slip down, starts rubbing them against the sensitive skin, through all the slick there. Louis makes a slightly hysterical sound and moves faster, like he can’t help it. 

“This is so hot,” Harry says. “Is it? For everybody? How does anyone do anything else?”

Louis laughs and slows his movement, thrusting slow and deep. It draws a low, wild sound out of Harry that he’s never made before. 

“It never feels like this,” Louis says before groaning. “Never.”

Harry pants against his ear as Louis sucks at a point on his neck. Harry threads his fingers through Louis’ hair and holds him with one hand while slipping two fingers inside of him with the other. 

“Ugnh _fuck_ ,” Louis moans. Harry agrees and kisses him to prove it. He’s so close. Never been so close this quickly with someone else. 

“I’m good? Being good for you?” Harry asks, somewhat nonsensically, feeling it build and build and build. 

“ _So_ good,” Louis moans. “Can I touch you?” he asks, right up against his ear, making Harry shiver with it as he nods. “Come on, babe, know, _mmm_ , know you’re close.”

Louis wraps a hand around him, still moving slow but being so thorough. 

“Faster,” Harry says, pumping his fingers in and out of Louis. 

Louis whines, moving his hips faster and breathing hard against his skin. “Come for me,” he says. “Please, ungh, wanna… wanna see you come.”

Harry tilts his head to the side and kisses Louis, sloppy and messy and all-consuming in a way that pushes him over the edge, spilling in between their bodies. 

“Oh my god,” Louis chokes out, and then follows him, spilling inside and making Harry’s fingers wetter where they’re tucked inside of him. 

They stay like that for ages, still inside of each other, just catching their breaths. They kiss some more, giggling into each other's mouths, stupid and giddy and happy. 

Harry pulls his fingers away and Louis pulls out of Harry, and when they get up they find the sheet beneath them is soaked, a giant wet patch under where their hips were, which Harry finds a little gross now that they’re not in the heat of it. He’ll have to keep that in mind for the future and remember to put a towel down. 

He takes a moment to revel in that — in the future they have together, with so much more of this. Sex that he’s _excited_ about. Who would have thought?

_____________________

Harry wants a moment to collect himself, so Louis heads for the shower first, kissing Harry a dozen times before he actually leaves the room. 

He’s blissed out and feeling so in love as he strips the sheets from the bed. He keeps the nest together as best he can for now. He’s going to need to deconstruct it at some point, especially since they’ve started a nest together in little love's cot, but it’s his first nest, and he’s feeling sentimental about it. Just a little longer, he promises himself. 

Louis makes them fresh cups of tea while Harry showers. They spend another hour on Harry’s sofa holding each other and talking through a few more things. Like, when should Harry move in — or should he move in at all? Should they look for a bigger flat, or should they keep things as they are?

They decide to keep things as they are for now, and revisit when the baby starts sleeping more regularly. 

At 5pm, they head back on over to the other flat. It’s unlocked, which Louis gasps at and immediately rushes into the living room to see how Andromeda is doing. They find her snuggled up and sleeping in Zayn’s arms, content as anything. 

Louis turns around to where Liam is looking at his vinyls and smacks him right on the shoulder, berating him for leaving the door unlocked where just _anyone_ could come in. To which Liam says it was Louis’ fault for leaving it unlocked when he went back over to Harry’s. 

They bicker for another minute before Lily interrupts, letting them know they’ve been cooking up a storm.

“We wanted to make sure you had plenty to eat on nights when things are too much,” she says, “or if Harry ends up working late.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Niall says. “You should check your email, Harry.”

Confused and a little concerned, Harry grabs his mobile and opens his personal email. “Uh… I can get 50% off of erectile dysfunction medication?”

“No, not that. Well…” Niall shrugs. “Maybe that, I don’t know.”

“Definitely not that,” Louis murmurs, smiling and sending Harry a cheeky wink. 

“Your work email,” Niall clarifies. 

Harry opens up his work email and finds a recent message from his boss with the subject, _Parental Leave - Approved._

“Naill,” Harry says warningly. “What did you do?”

“Nothing too bad,” Niall says. “Just called up my good friend Victoria Hales and explained your situation. She seemed understanding, but terse. She’s always terse though so that could be from anything.”

Harry opens up the message and reads. 

_Harry,_

_I have submitted parental leave on your behalf after a discussion with Mr. Horan. You will be paid your full wages for six weeks and then 80% of your wages for another six weeks._

_Send Candace your current projects and I will work on hiring an intern to help with the workload._

_Please reach out to me directly to discuss coming back to work. As much as I like Mr. Horan, I prefer to handle these things personally. _

_Congratulations on the baby._

_Regards,_

_Victoria_

Harry looks up in awe, straight at Louis’ face, who looks a little alarmed. 

“I have twelve weeks off,” he says. “Paid. Twelve weeks paid. Well, mostly.”

“Oh my god,” Louis says.

“I get to be home with you both,” Harry says, and looks over to Niall with tears in his eyes. 

“Now, now,” Niall says, voice cracking a little. He clears his throat. “No need to cry about it. Just wanted to make sure you both had enough time, and enough chances to take turns sleeping, or whatever.”

Louis doesn’t say anything, just goes straight over to Niall and hugs him close, then turns around and jumps up into Harry’s arms, hugging him tight. 

“Three months,” he whispers.

“Three months,” Harry says back, holding him closer. 

“Alright, alright,” Zayn says softly from the chair. He’s still gently rocking little love back and forth. “Are we gonna play or what?”

“I missed game night,” Lily says, taking her spot on the chair with Niall. 

“Gonna be harder now,” Louis says forlornly. 

“Of course it’s not,” Liam says. “We’ll make it work, Lou, like we always have.”

“Besides,” Zayn says, “if I don’t get to see this little angel at least once a month, I think I’ll die.”

“Dramatic,” Louis says, but he looks beyond pleased as he takes his seat on the floor, sitting a little closer to Zayn’s chair than he normally does. 

Harry takes his seat on the sectional across from him, and he has the perfect view of little love’s face, sleeping soundly. His heart melts a little more for her. 

“What’re we playing?” Lily asks. 

“Oh,” Harry says, “I was meant to order that new one last week but I forgot.”

“I brought something actually,” Liam says, standing up to go to the kitchen. “An old game I had lying around.”

“Okay,” Harry says, “Whatever works.”

“Ooo,” Niall says, “Has parenthood made you soft, H?”

“No way,” Harry says immediately, “I just know I can beat all of you at anything.”

“You’re going to eat your words, Styles,” Lily says. 

“Ha. You think I’m going to let my daughter see me lose on her first game night? Dream on.”

He catches Louis’ eye across the table, looking proud and sheepish and exasperated. Looking proper in love, if Harry does say so himself. He’s sure he has a similar look on his own face. 

“You gonna take that smack talk, Lou?” Zayn asks, smiling.

Louis shakes his head and rises to his knees. “Not a chance.”


	14. Epilogue

**__** _Four years later_

The door to their bedroom swings open hard, wacking against the wall. Harry groans but doesn’t open his eyes. 

“Oops,” a tiny voice whispers. 

“Shhh,” he hears Louis say, feels the breath of it hit the back of his neck. His hand rubs against Harry’s baby bump before he pulls away. The bed moves and Harry can feel Louis sitting up; he’s too disoriented to do it softly like Harry knows he means to. 

“Andy, love,” Louis says quietly. “We have to do things gently, remember?”

“Gently,” she repeats in a whisper. 

“That’s right.”

“Sorry, Papa.”

“That’s okay little love, we’ll just remember next time, right?”

“Right,” she whispers, full of determination. It’ll happen again tomorrow, Harry knows, but he can’t help but grin a little at it. 

He’s facing away from them, on the other side of the bed, but he keeps his eyes closed. Andy can always tell the moment he opens them and he’s not quite ready to leave the bed yet. 

“Mummy?” she asks, like she can hear his thoughts. 

“Mummy’s sleeping, shh.”

“I want Mummy to make me birthday pancakes.”

“Let’s let Mummy sleep some more. How about Papa makes you birthday pancakes?”

“No.”

“If you let Mummy sleep, I’ll watch Peppa Pig with you while we eat,” he offers, trying to sound tempting and also keep his voice low. When she doesn’t agree immediately, he adds in a singsong, “I’ll do Daddy Pig’s voice.”

She seems to think about that for a few seconds. “Papa makes me egg on toast?”

“Sure, I’ll make you egg on toast.” The bed shifts again and Louis grunts; the sound of picking up a four year old. “Happy birthday, little love.”

“Thank you, Papa.”

The door closes then, and the room is blanketed in quiet. Harry sighs and melts into the mattress with a wide smile on his face. Just as he’s about to drift back into sleep, he feels several kicks from inside his belly.

“Shh,” he says, rubbing along it to try and sooth. For a moment it works, the kicking stops and everything settles. But again, a strong few kicks come through and he whines softly before grumbling and sitting up. “Okay, okay, you miss Papa, I get it.” He braces himself and then stands before adjusting his sleep shorts. He mumbles, “I’m the one _carrying_ you, but I get it.”

He opens the door of their bedroom and walks out into the kitchen to find Andy in Louis’ arms grabbing bread out of the pantry.

“Honey,” Louis says, surprised. He’s wearing an old maternity t-shirt and the plaid pajama bottoms that match with the pajama top Harry’s wearing. “Go back to bed, I’ve got this.”

“Mummy!” Andy says, throwing her hands up in the air. Her hair is messy from sleep but her blue eyes are big and bright. 

“Hi love,” Harry says walking over and giving her a kiss. “Happy birthday!”

“Thank you, Mummy,” she says, bending her body sideways, squirming and reaching out in a gesture that means she wants to be held by Harry now. 

Louis hands her over with a sympathetic look in his eyes. “Why didn’t you stay in bed? Could’ve got you another hour, at least.”

“Baby missed you,” Harry says, pulling Louis’ hand towards him and placing it on his belly. Their baby continues to kick, but then settles when Louis rubs along the skin. Always, without fail, the baby calms when Louis is touching him, and Harry has absolutely no idea why. 

“Did the baby miss me?'" Andy asks. 

“Of course they did!" Harry says. "They missed their big sister so much, they couldn't wait to spend your birthday with you."

Andy squeezes Harry’s head close to her with all her might and Harry laughs. “Oof, my little love is so _strong_! How old are you now, anyway? Fifteen?”

“No,” Andy giggles. 

“Eighteen?”

“No,” she giggles again. 

“ _Thirty?_ ”

“Mummy!” she scolds. “I’m _four.”_

“Four?” he says, disbelievingly. “You’re too strong to be four. Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Oh alright, I’ll take your word for it. And you’re lucky because thirty year olds have their mummys make avocado toast for their birthdays.”

“Ew,” Andy and Louis say at the same time. 

“But do you know what _four_ year olds have their mummys make?”

“Birthday pancakes!” she exclaims.

“Birthday pancakes!” Harry fake yells. And then smiles at her, kissing her cheek again. When he turns back, Louis has a soft, dopey look on his face that Harry intends on teasing him about later. 

“Why don’t you and Papa go watch telly while Mummy makes them, okay?”

She squirms around and reaches out for Louis. “Peppa Pig,” she says to him as he takes her.

Louis snorts in a very pig-like fashion, which has her in stitches as they leave the kitchen. 

Harry sighs contentedly and starts pulling out a bowl, whisk, and the ingredients. Birthday pancakes are American pancakes with sprinkles in them. She saw it on some program a few weeks ago and hasn’t been able to let it go since. Today is her actual birthday, but he’s made birthday pancakes every day for at least a week now.

He’s ladling the first one into the pan when he hears Louis come back into the kitchen. 

“Hiya,” Harry says, picking up the spatula and waiting. 

Louis’ arms wrap around his belly and he hooks his chin over Harry’s shoulder. 

“Best mum in the world, you know that?”

Harry leans back into him and brings his unoccupied hand up to rest on one of Louis’. “It’s going to be baby-central around here in a few months, I want to spend as much time with her as I can while it’s just us.” Louis rubs a hand around his belly soothingly. Harry leans back into him further and sighs, “Thank you.”

“Want me to put some lotion on you?”

Harry laughs. “Nuh-uh.”

“What?” Louis asks innocently. “Some of the lotion to help sooth our little runner in there. And the dry skin. Plus, it feels nice. You always say it feels nice.”

Harry flips the pancake over and shakes his head. “It _does_ feel nice, but that’s almost always because _someone_ ,” he taps his pointer finger against the back of Louis’ hand, “doesn’t keep to the designated zone.”

“Mm, and what is the designated zone, babe?” Louis’ hands slide down further, down towards _under_ his belly. Harry lets out a startled laugh and grapples for his wrists to bring them up. 

“God I swear, this pregnancy has made you even hornier than me.”

Louis hums and kisses Harry’s neck. “That has been a _very_ nice side effect of knocking you up. Feels like you want me all the time now.” He trails his nose up and down the exposed skin, so easily that Harry just moves his head to the side to give him more room. 

“Do want you all the time,” Harry says, only a little mournfully. “If only we didn’t have responsibilities.” He straightens up and takes the pancake off the heat and ladles another one into the pan. 

“Imagine all the things I could do to you,” Louis whispers. “Imagine all the things you could do to me.”

Harry smirks and pats his hand. “We’ll have to keep imagining them, hm?”

“Mm,” Louis hums and nibbles on Harry’s ear, leaving a messy, open mouthed kiss against the corner of his jaw. 

“Lou,” Harry giggles and tries to swap him away.

“Not used to having your scent around so much, it’s driving me wild.” He kisses Harry’s mating mark then, the one he made in Harry’s skin a few years ago. Where his teeth sank into his flesh, where he sank into _Harry…_

Harry shakes himself out of it. “I stopped using neutralizers _months_ ago, right after my first trimester. And I didn’t use them all the time before, anyway. That’s not an excuse.” 

For a few years now, about half the days he sprays himself with scent neutralizers. It’s not that he doesn’t like his omega scent, but when he’s got them on, since people can’t tell he’s omega, there’s almost a subconscious difference in the way strangers treat him; Harry loves that. And when he’s wearing the oil Louis got him for their first anniversary —the one that makes him smell alpha— it’s a whole other world entirely. 

Now that it’s obvious he’s pregnant, there’s almost no point to wearing either of them. On the plus side, it has made Louis more aware of Harry’s mating mark, for whatever reason. He sniffs or kisses it whenever he can, just like he is now. 

Harry giggles and makes an effort to actually push him away now. “You’re going to make me burn the pancakes and then there will be tears. I do _not_ want tears today, please.”

Louis sighs and pulls his hands away, and Harry already misses them. But it’s for the best. “Alright, but just you wait until after she goes to bed.”

“I know, I heard — _the lotion_.”

“If not for you, then definitely for me,” Louis mumbles. Harry turns to him, watching Louis stick his tongue between his teeth and wiggle his eyebrows. Harry smacks him playfully on the bum as he rushes out of the room. 

Harry shakes his head and jolts when he realizes he’s overcooking one of the pancakes. “Shit.”

 _Well fuck,_ he thinks. Okay, that’s fine, he’ll just eat that one. 

He finishes up and grabs all three plates, pancakes piled high on each, and makes his way into the living room. 

“Who’s ready for birthday pancakes?” Harry asks. 

“Oh, me me!” Louis cheers. 

Andy looks offronted and says, “No, _me,_ Mummy.” 

“We all have birthday pancakes, love, don’t you worry.” He sets down the plates and asks, “Do you want whipped cream or syrup today?”

“Both,” she says. 

Louis starts to sit up, presumably to go get the toppings, but Harry waves him off, already turning around to grab them from the kitchen. 

When he comes back, Louis is sharing a mischievous grin with their daughter, who’s all giggles and trying to cover it with her hand. 

“Uh-oh,” Harry says, and puts his hands on his hips. “What did you do?”

Louis leans over and whispers in her ear, using his hand to cover it and everything, and then Andy says, “Nothing,” while giggling still. 

“Why are you giggling then?”

Again, Louis whispers in her ear and she says, “S’my birthday.” More whispering. “And I’ll giggle if I want to!”

“Okay, wise guy,” Harry says, looking at Louis, who leans over to Andy again. 

“Wise girl,” she corrects.

Harry laughs and sighs, sitting down beside them. He’ll find out whatever it is soon enough. He picks up his plate and the giggling gets louder. 

He looks at them from the corner of his eye pointedly. He picks up his fork and Andy can hardly contain herself, she’s laughing so hard. 

Harry’s sure Louis wouldn’t let him eat anything super gross, not when he’s this far along. 95% sure, anyway. Louis has been so attentive throughout this entire pregnancy; ready to run to the store in the dead of night for his midnight cravings and even buying Harry a kitchen chair to sit in while he cooks, or while he gives Louis instructions on how to make something. But he’s still a mischievous spirit at heart, so there will always be that 5% chance. 

Cutting up a bite of his pancakes, he carefully brings it to his mouth, waiting for some sort of _gotcha!_ But it’s mostly quiet behind the giggles, until he starts chewing, and then it’s big loud laughter. 

Nothing tastes wrong, so Harry just pulls his eyebrows together and laughs along with her. 

When he swallows, he asks, “What did you do?”

“Papa switched your plates!” she says, laughing. 

Harry looks over at Louis, who’s lifting up a bite of pancake to reveal an overdone side before wiggling his eyebrows and popping it in his mouth. Harry feels his heart flutter. He thought it would go away somewhere over the course of three years of marriage and four years of raising a child together, but apparently not. 

Harry puts down his plate and hugs Andy into him, who’s still laughing like it’s the funniest thing in the world, and effectively covers her ears so he can look Louis in the eye and say, “I’m going to go down on you so good tonight, you’ll have trouble remembering your own name.”

He lets go and smiles down at her before picking his plate back up. “Rascal!” he says to her. “You want to be a prankster just like Papa, don’t you?”

“Rascal!” she repeats, still laughing as she starts shaking the can of whipped cream. Harry takes it from her and helps dollop some on her plate. 

Looking back up, Louis’ mouth has dropped down in shock, but when their eyes meet, he blinks and swallows. 

“Is it tonight yet?” he whispers. Harry grins and bites his lip teasingly. 

Then Andy tries to shove a full pancake in her mouth all at once, which diverts their attention long enough for any heat between them to cool. 

***

It’s later that afternoon, after all of their other birthday activities, when someone knocks on the door. Andy, who would normally be too wrapped up in Peppa Pig’s adventures to pay attention, is up at lightning speed and rushing to the door, eager to see who they’re expecting. 

“Ask who it is first!” Louis shouts, following after her. Harry trails behind them and watches from a short distance. 

“Who is it?” she asks, while reaching for the handle.

“We have to _wait_ until they say who it is, darling,” Louis says. He drops to a squat beside her and takes her hands so she knows he’s serious. “And then we wait and make sure it's someone we know before we open the door, right?" 

"Right,” she says, with a serious set to her brow.

"Safety first,” Louis says.

“Safety first,” she repeats.

“Good girl. Go on, ask again.”

She turns towards the door, looking up, and asks, “Who is it?”

“Safety patrol inspectors,” Niall’s voice calls out. 

“Who is it _really?_ ” she asks again, and Louis looks like he could burst with pride. Harry tries to hold back his laughter. 

“Lily and Niall,” Lily’s voice answers. 

“Ah!” Andy immediately perks up, reaching for the handle again and bouncing on her toes. 

Louis stands to help her, unlocking the door so she can pull it open to reveal Lily standing up with flowers and a present in her hands and Niall squatting down with his arms open and a big smile on his face. Andy rushes in to hug him and Harry feels his cheeks start to hurt with how hard he’s smiling. 

“Andy, my love!” Niall says. 

“Niall my love!”

“Can I pick you up, my love?” 

“Yes my love,” she giggles and then screeches a little when she’s lifted into the air. 

They come in and Louis shuts the door behind them. Lily comes through first and kisses Harry on the cheek.

“We were told it’s someone’s birthday,” Niall says. He gives Harry a kiss on the cheek and asks him, “Do you know who that might be?” 

“Mine!” Andy says.

Niall turns to her with a stunned look on his face. “Yours?” he asks, incredulously. 

She giggles and wriggles to let him know she wants to be put down. Then she takes his hand and pulls him further into the living room. “I had birthday pancakes for breakfast, then Mummy and Papa and I went to the panazariun and watched the swirly ceiling!”

Niall nods along, listening attentively. 

Lily comes up beside Harry and says, “You went to the planetarium on your day off?”

"Thank god you speak four-year-old," Harry says. "We were only there for an hour. Once the star show was over, she lost interest."

“Then we got ice cream and went shopping,” Andy’s saying, “and Papa watched Peppa Pig with me and did Daddy Pig’s voice and Mummy made my cake and I made the frosting!”

“You’ve had such a busy day!” Niall says. “What did you get out shopping?”

“I’ll show you!” she says, and pulls him along into her room. 

Of all of their friends, Andy probably spends the most time with Lily and Niall, who love popping by to take Andy for a walk or to go to the park. It’s clear how much they love and indulge her stories by the _extensive_ recaps Harry and Louis get of their make-believe games. It seems like her imagination gets bigger and bigger each time she comes home.

“Never a dull moment,” Harry says. 

“How’re you feeling?” Lily asks. “Seven months along now, right?”

“Just about,” Harry says, rubbing his belly. “I’m good. A little more tired than usual, but no major issues. I think Louis’ actually a little miffed that my morning sickness only lasted that one week at the end of the first trimester.”

“Am not,” Louis says from the kitchen. Then comes around the corner, smiling at them. “Well…” he holds up a hand to say, “maybe a tiny bit.” Then he places that hand on Harry’s belly, gives him a kiss on the cheek, and then pulls away. 

There’s a string of kicks from inside of his belly, and Harry rolls his eyes affectionately at the feeling. 

“Our little runner,” Louis says, putting his hand back on Harry’s belly. And then to Lily, “Did you know Hazza’s carrying a cross country star?”

“Yeah, and they already love Louis more than me. I swear it’s like they know the second he steps away, it’s uncanny.”

“They just love me because _you_ love me, honey,” Louis says, wrapping his arms around Harry now. “They can feel it.”

“Wish they’d feel it a bit _less_ in their feet,” Harry says wistfully. 

There’s another knock on the door then, and Andy comes zipping out of her room and nearly slams into the front door, ignoring Louis' wincing and _“Be careful!”_

She shouts, “Who is it?”

“It’s Zayn,” Zayn’s voice comes through the door. “I’ve come to see a birthday angel.”

Andy gasps and looks back at Harry and Louis to confirm she can open the door. They both nod and she does, letting out a delighted noise when she sees Zayn with big eyes and a bigger smile, carrying balloons and a present. 

“Birthday angel!” he says, and as soon as he’s through and the door is closed, he kneels down beside her. “You look so grown up. Who told you you could grow up?”

“No one,” she giggles. 

“Oh, so you’re a rule breaker then, are you? Just like your Papa.”

“Rascal!” she shouts, throwing her hands up in the air and jumping up to hook her arms around his neck. 

“Rascal indeed,” he says, holding her around the waist as he stands. 

Louis kisses Harry’s mating mark softly and then pulls away to greet Zayn just as Niall comes out from Andy’s room. 

“No Gigi tonight?” Niall asks. 

Zayn shakes his head. “She needed to help her sister with something, but she sends her love, and this.” He holds up the present and passes it to Louis. 

“I was going to say, I’ve seen your ribbon work, and this isn’t it,” Louis says. 

“Absolutely not. My present to our birthday angel is in the card.” Then he mouths _pottery class_ to Harry behind his hand so Andy doesn’t see or hear him. 

Zayn had asked them earlier in the week whether Andy would prefer doing something more artsy or sporty, and Louis had said that she’d love anything as long as she gets to do it with him. And it’s true; Andy’s much more willing to try new things if Zayn is there. Harry’s pretty certain it’s because he walks her through everything before and while they’re doing it so she knows exactly what to expect. The patience he has with her warms Harry’s heart every single time. 

“Ooo,” Harry says, and watches Andy wriggle herself down. “She’ll love that,” he whispers. 

There’s another knock at the door then and Andy rushes to it, screaming the question again. 

“She’s so _loud_ ,” Louis says. 

“She takes after you,” Zayn says. 

“Yeah, you were always meant to have a brood of loud, energetic shouters,” Lily says. “Sorry you got roped into that, Harry.” 

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Harry says honestly. Louis throws two fingers up to the rest of them while he kisses Harry soft and sweet. There’s general disgusted noises being made, peppered in with phrases such as _disgusting_ and _get a room_ and _there are children present_. 

“Papa!” Andy shouts, annoyed. 

“Sorry, little love, what is it?”

“Who is it?” she says to the door again. 

“Um,” from the other side of the door. “Liam?”

Louis nods that it’s okay for her to open the door, so she does with a big smile on her face. “Leem!” she yells.

Liam is standing on the other side with a present bag. His face goes from confused to bright smile in the span of three seconds. 

“Andromeda,” he says formally. “Happy birthday, little darling.”

At the same time, Andy reaches up as Liam reaches down to scoop her into his arms, giving her a kiss on the cheek on the way. 

She sighs and leans her head on his shoulder while he says his hellos to the rest of the group.

Harry and Louis have talked about it, how Andy seems to calm right down in Liam’s presence, and they're not sure if it’s because his alpha pheromones soothe her or because he instinctively knows what to do for her. Louis bets it's the pheromones, but Harry thinks Liam’s just quietly good at knowing what they all need, and it’s no different with Andy. 

The rest of them are chatting when the baby kicks again. Harry realizes how tired he is from standing, so he turns to Louis quietly and says, “I’m just gonna sit down.”

“Of course,” Louis says. “You want some tea?”

“Lemonade actually, if we have any?”

“I’ll make some if we don’t.”

“Oh no, just water if we don’t.”

“Hazza,” Louis says seriously, but with a small smile. “What do I keep telling you?”

Harry sighs, but he’s smiling, too. “That it’s your turn to spoil me.”

“Right. So let me,” Louis says. He gives Harry a peck on the lips. “Is there anything else I can get for you, honey?”

“A biscuit, please,” Harry says. Louis nods and gives him another peck before going to the kitchen. Harry catches Niall’s eye as he turns to head for the living room; he’s giving Harry a look so soft and lovely, like he’s saying, _I’m so happy for you._ Harry smiles and nods at him. _Me too._

A few minutes later, everyone makes their way to the living room. Louis gives Harry his lemonade and biscuit while Andy stands in front of Zayn and Liam and telling them both about what she did today. 

“Mummy made the cake, but I helped with the frosting. It’s yellow because yellow is happy and everyone’s happy because today’s my birthday!”

“Wow, what a day,” Liam says. “Are you sure you’re not too tired for game night?”

“No way,” she says. “Papa got me a new game he said we can play.” She turns to everyone then and asks, “Can we play?”

“Of course, little love,” Louis says. “Why don’t you go get it from your room?”

As soon as he’s said it, she's off like a bolt to retrieve it. Harry leans his head on Lily’s shoulder. Lily reaches her hand up to gently pat his cheek. 

“Hopefully she sleeps well tonight,” she says. 

“Let’s try to keep her up a little later,” Louis says from across the coffee table, “so you can have a lie-in in the morning.”

“We’ll see if we can keep _me_ up that long,” Harry says, half joking and stifling a yawn. 

Andy comes back in and says, “Here it is!”

“Good job!” Louis says. “Alright, this one you can play on your own or in teams. What do you think, Andy?”

“I wanna be on Zayn’s team!” she says. 

Zayn looks quite pleased while everyone else lets out affronted noises. 

“You don’t wanna be on _my_ team?” Louis asks. Then, as an aside, “You _birth_ a person and they don’t even want to be on a _team_ with you.”

She giggles and brings her hands up to her mouth to hide it. “I wanna be on Papa’s team!” she says then. 

Now it’s Zayn’s turn to look offended. 

“Well what about me?” Lily asks. “You don’t wanna be on my team?”

“I wanna be on Lily’s team!” she says, laughing. 

“Mummy doesn’t get any love?” Harry asks. 

“Wanna be on Mummy’s team!”

“Do you want to be on everyone’s team?” Liam asks. 

“Yes!”

“She gets this from you, you know,” Louis says to Harry. 

“From me?” Harry gasps. 

“She’s a little cheat,” he says.

“I have never cheated,” Harry says sternly. Louis just snorts and Harry’s jaw drops. “I don’t like what you’re implying, Papa. Andy, tell Papa I would never cheat.”

Andy just giggles, like the little traitor she is, and everyone laughs at Harry's expense. She makes up for it a few minutes later, though, by letting Harry take his turn first. 

Andy goes around from person to person on each of their turns and plays with everyone. Slowly, she stops coming around to certain people on their turns, and soon after that, they drop out of the game. 

Eventually, it’s just Harry and Zayn left. After Zayn plays a certain turn, she doesn’t come over to Harry any more, and he drops his mouth down, indignant. Exactly two turns later, Zayn wins, and he celebrates by picking Andy up and twirling her around. 

“Alright, she’s a cheat,” Harry says.

“You’re only admitting that because you lost,” Louis says, both accusing and affectionate. 

“That’s because it would be _strategizing_ if I had won.” 

They all laugh. And Andy is so happy that she won, so Harry supposes that's okay. 

They put the candles in the birthday cake shortly after that, and Harry takes too many pictures of his daughter’s face, grinning and somewhat blurry behind the flames. 

“Make a wish!” Louis says, and Andy closes her eyes real tight before blowing them out. They all cheer and she looks more than pleased. 

“What’d you wish for, my love?” Niall asks. 

“I can’t tell you my love,” Andy says. “It won’t come true!”

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” Niall says. “I’m Irish, so you’re allowed to tell me your wish because I’m lucky, and I can help make it come true.” 

Her face scrunches up, like she’s thinking about it, but then nods and goes over to him, leaning in and covering her mouth and his ear with her little hand. Niall’s smiling ear to ear, but it starts to fade as she whispers. His eyes flicker over to Louis, and Harry sees a little glisten in his eye.

Andy pulls away and looks seriously at him. 

Niall looks back at her and smiles softly. “That’s a beautiful wish, my love.” 

She asks, “You make my wish come true?”

He pauses for a beat, then nods his head. “Do my very best.”

She’s satisfied with that and goes back to the cake. Harry only has time to exchange a confused glance with Louis before Andy asks if she can have a slice now. 

He takes her into the kitchen to cut the cake, and hopes Niall has time to tell Louis what had him looking close to tears. 

When they come out with slices for everyone, Harry sends Louis a questioning glance but he shakes his head and says, “Tell you later.” 

They eat their cake and watch Andy open her presents. Poor thing is absolutely exhausted by 7:30, which is when everyone starts to pack up. Andy cries, like she usually does when they all leave, but there are more tears this time because she’s overtired. 

They wave their goodbyes, because Andy is grumpy now, curled up in Louis’ arms with her little face frowning as they all smile sympathetically on their way out.

_“Happy birthday, Andromeda. I’ll see you next week, darling.”_

_“Goodnight birthday angel, sweet dreams.”_

_“Extra cuddles when I see you next! Happy birthday, Andy.”_

_“Got your wish in my pocket, my love! It’s safe with me.”_

The door closes behind them and Andy cries a bit harder into Louis’ neck. He rubs a hand carefully over her back and they all head for her room to put her to bed. 

They read her a bedtime story because she insists, even though she can barely keep her eyes open long enough to put on her pajamas. She’s out like a light before the second page, but they read the book all the way through anyway, just for more time to look at her face. 

“My little love is four,” Louis whispers in awe. “Where does the time go?”

Harry sighs in agreement.

“And another one on the way.”

Harry sighs for longer, leaning his head against Louis’ shoulder this time. 

After another few minutes of looking at their daughter sleeping, they get up and leave the room, keeping her door cracked open like she likes. 

Their friends are godsends, so most everything is cleaned up already, but they spend a few more minutes getting the last pieces back in order. After that, even though it’s only 8:30pm, they decide to call it a night. 

They go about their nightly routines, brushing their teeth and changing into their pajamas and deciding if that days clothes should go in their nest for their little runner. Today's smell especially good, full of love and friendship, all things kind and safe, so Harry adds Louis' t-shirt and his own jumper to the bassinet with all the other clothes while Louis re-scents some of the pieces already in there. Louis' told him it's one of his favorite parts of the day, adding to their nest, that it feels so nice to create something together. Harry can't help but feel the same.

They’re each pulling down their side of the duvet when Harry remembers to ask, “What did she tell Niall she wished for?”

“Oh,” Louis says, sliding under the covers, meeting Harry face-to-face in the middle of the mattress. “That _Papa and Mummy get to use my wish instead.”_

“No she didn’t,” Harry says, gasping.

“That’s what he told me,” Louis says. He tucks some of Harry’s hair behind his ear. “We’ve got a little angel on our hands.”

“Can’t even ask her why because we’re not supposed to know,” Harry says shaking his head. 

“I already know.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s because she doesn’t need a wish, she’s got the best Mummy in the world.”

Harry smiles and pulls Louis in closer by his sleep shirt. “The best _Papa_ in the world.” He closes the last bit to kiss his husband, his mate, the Papa to his baby girl and to their soon-to-be little runner. “I think I promised you something earlier,” he says mischievously, even as his eyes start to feel heavy. He hopes he looks sexy instead of tired.

Louis kisses him back, but pulls away with a smile. “How about we rain check, babe? I’m knackered.” 

“You are not,” he argues. Harry tries to stop his own yawn, but he can’t quite fight it.

“C’mon,” Louis says. “Let’s sleep while we can get it, yeah?”

“Mm, okay fine,” Harry says while Louis leans over and shuts off the light. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Louis agrees. 

They cuddle back into each other and Louis thumbs over Harry’s mating mark, so Harry leans over and presses his nose to Louis’ and breathes deeply. He hums, taking in his mate’s scent, remembering what it was like that night. How right it felt to mate each other. How right it's felt every day since he met Louis. How he never feels safer than when he's in Louis' arms.

“You smell like the way I feel in my favourite outfit,” Harry mumbles into Louis’ neck. 

He feels rumbling, and hears notes of laughter after. It makes him smile. 

“What?” Louis asks. He thumbs over Harry’s mark again and kisses his forehead. 

“You smell like bread I baked with my mum and jam I made with my sister.”

Louis runs his fingers through his hair and hums. 

“Like buying fresh flowers just to see someone smile. Or starting a new book and not wanting to put it down. A room wrapped up in fairy lights at Christmas time.”

Louis hums again, slightly more thoughtfully this time. His fingers slow their comb through Harry’s hair for a moment and then pick up again. 

“You smell like love,” Louis whispers. 

Harry cuddles in further and kisses Louis’ mating mark this time. “You too.” He can feel Louis smiling as he hugs him closer. Harry relaxes into him and the bed and their existence. 

“You wanna know what we smell like together?” Louis asks. 

_That’s an easy one,_ Harry thinks.

“Home."

.

.

.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please consider giving kudos, leaving a comment, and/or reblogging the [fic post](https://absoloutenonsense.tumblr.com/post/640766897256906752). 💖
> 
> I'm on Tumblr as [absoloutenonsense](https://absoloutenonsense.tumblr.com/) if you want to come tell me what you thought! 
> 
> This fic is really special to me. I spent a lot of time in my own head about it, and still feel really protective over this Harry and Louis (and baby). I'm hoping all that love translated well here, and that you're as soft for these characters as I am.


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